Keep Listening, She'll Never Make A Sound
by toocoolforbeth
Summary: It was exactly three hours after Clary's eighteenth birthday that she did the one thing she always wanted to do, but never thought she would. That was the day her life changed forever. AUClace. Title from "Ocean And Atlantic"- Mayday Parade
1. Chapter 1

**Okay, so I know I shouldn't be starting another Multi Chap, seeing as I'm only like halfway through Lost Angel, but I just got this idea in my head and I couldn't shake it. I had to write it down.**

**Okay, so this is kinda a prologue. It doesn't go very far into the story. **

**The story starts for real in chapter two.**

**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing apart from the plot and maybe a couple of OC's (If I even decide I want to make any OC's)**

**ENJOY!**

Clary stood in her room, alone, in front of the white, full length mirror. She hated what she saw; a pale, shapeless body, splatter of ugly freckles and carrot orange hair, hanging down to just below her shoulder blades. It would probably be longer, if it weren't for its wild, unruly curls, which caused her hair to be thick and untamed. She hooked her index finger under the under wire of her old, ill-fitting bra, pulling it down for what seemed like the hundredth time this afternoon.

Clary wasn't usually a negative person. She had never really bothered about looks or clothes; her idea of "dressing up" was a linen shirt and a pair of jeans that weren't riddled with splotches of paint. So it wasn't like she had particularly low self esteem or anything. It's just that today was a special day.

Today was the day she turned eighteen.

Clary had always imagined that she would wake up as an adult and suddenly feel mature and free and confident. She'd imagined that she would wake up and suddenly be released from the holds of awkwardness and discomfort that had followed her around since she was twelve. How wrong she was.

Instead of waking up and thinking "I'm a woman now!" she had woken up thinking, "Well this is anticlimactic." She did not feel confident, free or any less anxious than she had at age seventeen. If anything, she felt worse. She felt disappointed.

Even her room was still as juvenile and dated as it had been yesterday. Same old apricot orange walls, same old used to death patchwork quilt draped over her bed.

All those hours spent day dreaming in class as a frizzy haired, bracers wearing, uncomfortable fourteen year old had been hours wasted.

Clary sighed. There was nothing she could do about it. Just let it be.

Suddenly a shrill sound rang through the room. She flipped open her cell phone, putting it to her ear.

"Clary! What's wrong with you? I sent you like, ten texts. Why won't you answer?" It was Isabelle Lightwood, the closest thing Clary had ever come to having a "girl-friend".

"Ah," She pinched the bridge of her nose in between her thumb and forefinger. "Sorry Izzy; My phones acting up." That was a lie. She'd been avoiding Izzy, because talking to Izzy would mean talking about "the best night of her life", as Miss Lightwood liked to call it. Clary however, did not think it would be the best night of her life. Clary thought it would be just another night were she would be forced to sit around in Antics, the town's only over eighteen nightclub, and watch as every boy in the room drooled over Izzy.

"Oh well, never mind that," Izzy continued, "You gotta come over to mine, if you want to be ready in time." Clary groaned.

"Why can't I just dress myself?" She asked.

"Because," The other girl said exasperatedly, "If I let you do that, you'll probably just turn up in overalls or some shit." Clary rolled her eyes in irritation.

"You know I don't own any overalls."

"Whatever. Just get your skinny little ass over here."

Clary hung up and slid the phone into her pocket. Slipping on her converse, she started packing throwing things into her handbag; wallet, car keys, iPod, a pair of black, open toed kitten heels she's worn to her mother's wedding when she was fifteen and hadn't even picked up since. Hoisting her bag over her shoulder, she left her room and headed down stairs.

Just as she was about to leave the house, a voice surmounted from behind her.

"You off to Isabelle's?" She spun around. It was Luke, her step father. Luke was an average sized, stocky man who owned a book store downtown. He was the only father Clary had ever known; her real father having died in a car accident before she was even born. Yet, these days, Clary had found talking to him, to both her parents actually, harder and harder. The just seemed so... square. She knew it sounded cliché, but it was true. In fact, the entire town was the same. They all just seemed so content with having their fates decided for them in this washed up, east coast town. They never questioned it. Most of the kids that went to school there ended up going to the local community college or state university. That's as long as they even made it into college. Only one or two very bright graduates actually went to one of the colleges interstate. Clary had been awarded a scholarship into the arts program at the state university, where she would receive a mediocre degree in visual arts. Fantastic.

"Yeah," She said in response to Luke's question. "She wants to get ready early." Luke smiled.

"Okay sweetie. Have fun." He began to turn away and she was just about to slip out when he turned back to her.

"Oh, and Clary?" She looked back at him.

"Happy birthday."

By 11:30, Clary had already been at the club for two hours. The night, so far, hadn't been as terrible as Clary had expected. Simon, Clary's best friend since childhood, and Isabelle's boyfriend had danced with her for almost an hour, and she had actually enjoyed herself. Both Isabelle and Simon had pitched together to get her new laptop, and Isabelle's older brother, Alec, had sent her Mayday Parade CD from New York, were he was going to school. Even Isabelle's little brother, Max, had given Clary a pack of watercolour pencils. It had been nice.

But by this time Clary was starting to wish she was back at home, in bed. Simon and Isabelle had unintentionally forgotten about her and were currently dry humping on the dance floor. So now, of course, it was just her, sitting alone in the booth. She wasn't too worried about being alone; she liked the solitude.

She was looking down at her diet coke, twirling the straw in between her fingers when she noticed someone sit down on the other side of the booth.

She looked up to meet a pair of luminous gold orbs, paired with a grinning set of white teeth. Jace Wayland.

Jace Wayland had been one of the most popular boys in her high school. He was captain of the football and basketball team and had a notorious reputation for being a bit of a player. He had had an on again off again relationship with Aline Penhallow, captain of the cheerleading squad and the schools Senior Class President. Jace and Clary had nothing in common, save that they shared the same birthday. She knew because every year her birthday had been forgotten by the teachers and basically all the other students apart from Simon, Isabelle and Maia (a sweet biracial girl in her Trigonometry class), overwhelmed by the importance of Jace's birthday. She didn't blame him though. It's not like he did it on purpose, he didn't even know she existed. In fact, the whole time they had been going to school together, Jace had never even looked her way. Which begged the question; what was he doing sitting in front of her in a booth in a considerably lame nightclub (the over twenty one clubs were much more enticing to someone of his social status), smiling like she'd just told him a dirty joke?

"Hello," He said cheerfully, "Clary, right?" Clary didn't know what to do. Was this some kind of immature prank?

"Hello," She said slowly, "And you are...?" She figured she might as well have fun with him.

Jace snorted, "You're not honestly saying you don't know who I am, are you?"

"I am very honest." He smirked.

"If you say so. Jace Lightwood." He stuck out his hand, his mouth broadening into a wider grin when he noticed her hesitate. She took his hand and shook it.

It was very loud in the nightclub, the ear bursting dubstep rattling every surface inside the building. She could barely hear herself think, and they were basically shouting over the music. She was starting to get a headache from trying to hear above the noise all the time. A sharp pain had started throbbing in the right side of her forehead, and she closed her eyes, temporarily forgetting about Jace, rubbing the aching spot with the palm of her hand.

Jace seemed to notice this, and he reached forward grabbing a hold of hold of her wrist.

"C'mon, "He said as the music stopped and the DJ started talking into the microphone, causing people in the club to start cheering, "Let's get some fresh air." She hesitated. She didn't really know Jace, how could she trust him? He seemed to sense her worry, because he smiled reassuringly.

"Don't worry, I don't bite." He got up from the booth, pulling Clary up with him, and he lead her towards the door.

Once they were outside, Clary's headache dulled significantly, and she gave a sigh of relief. Jace strode forward in front of her, settling himself on the hood of an old, powder blue Ford Flacon.

"Feeling better?" He asked.

Nodding, she walked up to the car, until she was situated in front of him, leaning the bottom of her thighs against the shiny metal bumper. They were silent for a while. Jace tugged his knees up to his chest, crossing his legs over one another and resting his head on top of his knees. He didn't look very much like the boy she had known from a distance for almost half her life. He looked thoughtful, not dumb and zombie like, like the rest of the jocks that used to be in her class at school.

"You look very pretty tonight," He noted, motioning to her dress. She ran her hands self consciously over the skirt of the dress Izzy had given her to wear. It was a light pink colour, the material soft and floaty under her fingers. It was unlike anything Clary had ever worn before. Paired with the strapless bra Isabelle had bought her and she looked half decent. It didn't look fantastic on her, but it looked nice.

"Is that why you brought me out here?" Clary asked Jace, bluntly. He frowned.

"What? Oh God no, of course not. You just seemed like you needed a break, that's all." She sighed, the head ache starting to come back.

"That still doesn't explain what you're doing."

"And what am I doing?" He asked, starting to piss her off.

"This!" She snapped, "All of this! You never spoke to me at all in high school, never gave me two seconds of your time. And then you turn up randomly on our birthday and start acting like we're BFF's! So excuse me, Mr Lightwood, but I'm just a tad confused. I'm sorry."

She ended her rant and turned on her heel, starting back towards the front doors of the club. She was about half way back to the front doors when she heard him mumble something.

"What?" She barked at him, still on edge. He coughed.

"I said; 'This isn't high school anymore.'" She stared at him for a few moments. He was very beautiful – the artist in Clary could appreciate that- even in the stark, white glow of the street lights. His hair seemed almost white in that light and his eyes shone like tiny moons.

"I know that," She attempted to run a hand through her hair, before remembering the hours of work and tons of hair spray Isabelle had spent that afternoon, managing to get Clary's hair to sit in perfect spirals, "But what are you doing here? It's your birthday too. You should be spending it with your friends."

"Friends?" He stretched his legs out in front of him, smirking, "You mean like Sebastian? Jonathan? Raphael? Those small minded, testosterone fuelled, Neanderthals?" He shrugged, "I could go hang out with them, probably at some house party. Maybe even get the chance to watch one of them try and kill themselves by drinking an exorbitant amount of beer, or, even better, watch them do it upside down. Sounds fan-fucking-tastic." Clary held back a sigh, rubbing her temples exasperatedly.

"I get that, but why come here?"

"I don't know," He eyes were a blank canvas, completely unreadable, "I just like the noise, I guess."

She was quiet for a few seconds, taking in what he had just said. Then she asked the one question that had really been bothering her.

"So why talk to me? I'm sure you already know this, but I'm not exactly, you know, you're type." His face changed then, from blank to thoughtful.

"You know, I'm not really sure." He crossed his legs, "I just saw you sitting there, by yourself. You seemed lonely."

"Well you shouldn't have bothered." She snapped, defensively. "I don't get lonely."

He blinked, "Everybody gets lonely sometimes."

She found herself at loss for words. What the hell was she supposed to say to that?

He ran a hand through his hair and slid down the hood so he was sitting in front of her. She took a small step back, uncomfortable with the sudden close proximity.

"Look," He began. Clary was annoyed to find that even sitting down he still managed to be as tall as her. "I feel like we've gotten off on the wrong foot. I don't want to start a fight with you." He sounded sincere, and she started to feel slightly guilty. She was just about to apologise for everything, or at least try to, when she heard somebody yelling from behind her.

"Clary!" She spun around to see an exuberantly happy Isabelle towing a long an equally happy Simon, who was grinning from ear to ear. Neither of them noticed the blonde boy sitting on the car behind her.

"Clary," Izzy began, "Oh my God, Clary, you'll never guess what." Clary found herself grinning a long with the two, even though she had no idea what she was smiling about. It was impossible to hang around Isabelle and not have trace amounts of her bubbly nature rub off on you.

"What?" She asked. Isabelle simply held up her left hand, clearly displaying her ring finger. On it sat a sparkling diamond attached to a plain silver band. Clary gaped, unable to believe what she was seeing.

"Oh my God, Izzy," A smile spread on to her face, "Did Simon..?"

"Yes!" She shrieked happily. Simon put a hand on her shoulder.

"We're going to wait until after college, of course," He said, smiling, "But it's like a promise, you know. It's definitely happening."

Clary hugged Isabelle tightly, and dutifully ignored the clenching in her chest.

"Oh my God, you guys, this is fantastic!" She threw her arms around Simon and he squeezed her back, twice as hard. "I'm so happy for you."

Isabelle grabbed Clary and Simon by the hands and began to drag them back into the club, talking about celebratory drinks when Simon looked around and finally noticed the fair haired boy sitting behind them.

"Oh, sorry, "Simon looked at Jace questioningly, eyebrow raised. "Clary, I didn't realise you were with someone." Of course Simon knew Jace. Everybody knew Jace.

"No," Jace stood up, "I was just leaving."

"Yeah," Clary looked at him in what she hoped was an apologetic way. She hadn't exactly been pleasant towards him.

Isabelle didn't even look back, just kept pulling them on back inside.

They went inside, and Isabelle bought them all a round of champagne using the fake ID she's had since she was fifteen.

They laughed and cheered and clinked glasses and toasted almost everything they could think of. But throughout all the laughter and chatter and excitement between the three of them, Clary couldn't stop thinking about Jace.

The golden sun's that shone in his eyes, his moonlight coloured hair. The thought of him plagued her mind. There was something intriguing about him. She had thought she had Jace, as well as the rest of those jocks, figured out. Thought she knew their deal. But she was starting to think that maybe she was wrong.

Maybe she didn't have anyone figured out at all.

**So, what do you think? **

**I know that I didn't really give you much story to review, but there'll be more to think about next chapter. **

**Please R&R though! It really helps when I get feedback. It encourages me to update more!**

**Love,**

**Beth**


	2. Chapter 2

**Okay so, ANOTHER CHAPTER! In the same night. I don't even know if anybody even likes the story yet, because I put up the first chapter only like an hour ago. I doubt anyone's even read it yet.**

**Anyhow, to the story!**

**DISCLAIMER: you know the deal. Don't own anything. Now on with it.**

It was almost two in the morning when Clary slipped into the driver's seat of Simon's car. She had called Isabelle and Simon, who were far too drunk to drive, a cab and sent them back to Simon's mom's house.

"Thanks Clary," He'd slurred at her, "You're a really good friend. You know that, right?"

She, herself, had only drunk one glass of champagne. She felt drained, for some reason. She felt like she just wanted to go to sleep and never wake up.

Clary hated herself for it, but she couldn't push away that burning in her chest whenever she thought about Isabelle and Simon getting married. It wasn't that she wasn't happy for them; she was. But she couldn't help but think about how even when her two best friends were moving forward, Clary wasn't moving anywhere. She wasn't even moving out of her house when college started in September, seeing as the University was only a half hour drive out of town. She was stuck. Things weren't changing. She was in almost the exact same position she'd been in this time last year, except this time she didn't have her two best friends standing beside her. She was completely alone.

Simon and Isabelle were moving on, and they were leaving her behind.

She stopped at the red traffic light and rubbed her eyes, shaking her head. She wasn't supposed to think like this. She was supposed to be thinking about the positives. But there she was, two hours after her birthday, one week after graduating from high school, and already wishing she could go back to when everybody was moving at the same pace. Back to when she didn't feel like she was watching everybody in her life go on forward without her.

Staring out the windscreen of Simon's car, the headlights from the car illuminating the road in front of her, she noticed her vision start to go blurry. Sighing, she turned into the car park of the local 24 hour diner, Lucinda's. She needed coffee, unless she wanted to crash into a tree.

_Great, now I'll never be able to sleep tonight. _

She sat down on a stool at the counter, not paying any attention to anyone around her. The diner wasn't anything special; pale yellow walls, red linoleum stools and booths, cheesy, 50's style decorations hung on the wall.

"Anything I can get you Clary?" It was Barb, the blonde, middle aged woman who had managed the place for five years, ever since Lucinda had retired. Clary had often found herself turning up at the diner with Isabelle and Simon after school for coffee and cheesecake, so most of the staff knew her by name.

"Yeah, a coffee thanks." Clary forced herself to smile at the older woman. This was odd, she thought, because she usually had no problem smiling at Barb. Barb was loveable.

Barb poured the dark liquid into a white ceramic mug. Clary picked it up and sipped from it, breathing in the rich, bitter aroma through her nose. She hadn't noticed the pair of golden eyes that had looked up to stare at the mention of Clary's name.

"You know, if you wanted to see me, I'm in the phonebook. No need to resort to stalking." Clary jumped as the voice interrupted her hazy thoughts.

"Jace." She said her voice flat.

"Yes?" He smiled innocently at her. She ignored it.

"I think you may be the one stalking me, Wayland." The coffee was starting to kick in and her thoughts were clearing, helping her to regain her composure.

Clary noticed glanced at Barb from the corner of her eye. The blonde was facing away from them, seemingly sorting through paperwork on the back counter, but Clary could tell by the stiffness in her shoulder and the slight tilt of her neck that she was listening in. She looked at Jace and motioned to the waitress with a tilt of her head. He looked in the direction she'd gestured to, nodded and got up, taking his coffee with him. She followed, mug and purse in hand. Sliding into the booth next to the boy, she let out a small, involuntary giggle.

Jace chuckled a long with her. Both of them had been living in the small town long enough to know that even though Barb was lovely; she was also the town gossip.

"So," Jace begun, "What's keeping you up so late?" Clary picked up her now half empty mug, motioning at him with it.

"Coffee. I didn't want to fall asleep at the wheel and run off a bridge or something."

"Well you don't have to worry about that, seeing as Middleton doesn't actually have any bridges."

Clary chuckled. He was right.

"Middleton doesn't have anything," She pointed out.

"That's true." He agreed, "This place is as dry as Texas in summer. And it's not even in Texas."

Clary laughed. It felt good. It had been ages since she'd laughed like this. They were silent for a while. Jace absent mindedly gazed out the window, and Clary studied him, getting a proper look at his features.

He had a very stunning face, his cheekbones high, complimenting his nicely angled jaw line. His eyes were a smouldering dark gold, like melted chocolate and honeycomb and his hair was a very light blonde. Clary almost craved to see how it would look in the daytime, with the sunlight reflecting off it like it would off Lake Lyn. Which wasn't really a lake, if you really thought about it. More like a large pond or a swamp. When he smiled, she noticed a chip on his right incisor. Some people might have seen this as an imperfection. Some people might have said that it was a crack in Jace's otherwise flawless face. Some people might have been put off by it. But not Clary; For Clary, it just made him more real. More palpable. It made him less perfect, but it somehow made him even more beautiful than before. It was funny how she hadn't even really looked at him before that night. She's always known he was good looking, but she'd never really thought about how _beautiful _he was until then. Not just attractive, but true beauty. The type of beauty that isn't perfect, but has flaws that are just as amazing as the perfectness, perhaps even more so. It almost took her breath away.

She blinked, snapping out of her reverie. What was going on with her? She had never had a crush in her life, not even in middle school. She had been asked out a couple of times before in high school, and she'd accepted. She only said yes because she thought they were nice and she didn't want to hurt their feelings or embarrass them, but they had both ended on the first or second date, mainly because she just didn't have the energy or the incentive to go deep into relationships. And to be honest, she hadn't been all that attracted to them anyway. She just couldn't do the whole boyfriend-girlfriend thing.

Clary Fray had never been really attracted to anyone in her life.

Yet here she was, gawking at what might as well be a perfect stranger.

She shook her head, suppressing a sigh. The silence was interrupted by Jaces voice.

"Have you ever thought about leaving?" Clary blinked, unsure as to what his question implied.

"What do you mean?" She asked, putting down her coffee mug. She was starting to feel uncomfortable in her dress; the pretty pink chiffon that had seemed so soft at the beginning of the night was now starting to scratch uncomfortably at the back of her thighs.

"I mean, have you ever just wanted to go. Just get on a plane or get into your car and leave." Jace was looking t her with a certain sort of desperation in his eyes. She didn't answer him.

Her mind flashed to her off white, used Toyota sitting on the curb outside Isabelle's house. She wasn't answering him because she didn't have an answer. She had an answer alright.

Clary wasn't answering him because she was scared of what would happen if she did. Scared of what she might let herself do. So she stayed silent.

"We could do it, you know." Jace was staring at her intently, like he was reading her thoughts, and his voice had gone soft, husky. "We could just jump into my car. We could just name a city, a state, a town. And then we could just drive. Drive and never look back."

She remained quiet, her mind screaming at her to say something, _anything. _The thing was that she didn't want to refuse the offer. She wanted to take it. The idea was so tempting. It was crazy, but tempting. But she couldn't. She just couldn't.

"Jace," her voice seemed distant to her own ears, and she saw the boys face fall at the tone of her voice. But he still had that desperation in his eyes. "You know I can't. I have... I have college in August and there's still so much I have to-" He cut her off, placing his hand over hers. Her entire body tingled with electricity that came with the contact.

"You don't want to go there." He said, eyes boring into hers intently. She blinked at him.

"Jace, what are you talking about. Of course I want to go; I'm taking a course in visual arts. I love art. It's all I've ever wanted to do."

"I know, I know, but you don't want to go and sit in some classroom all day. If you go there, Clary..." He seemed to struggle for words, grasping for the right thing to say, "... Clary, it will smother you. You'll lose it. You'll lose all the emotion and all the feeling that goes into your work. You might still have your talent, but you'll lose everything that makes your art beautiful. Clary, going to that crumby college will kill you."

"Well, what do you know about it?" She snapped, "You don't know me. How the hell do you know anything about my work anyway?"

He was making her angry again. He was making her angry because he was right. She knew he was right. But what he was suggesting was insane. It wasn't... it wasn't what girls like Clary did. Girls like Clary were quiet, nice, predictable girls. Girls like Clary were girls who helped little old ladies across roads, were nice to their parents and did as they were told. They went to college and married quiet, nice predictable boys. Boys like Simon. They didn't throw away every plan they'd ever had to run away with boys they didn't even know on a whim. Especially not boys like Jace.

"I used to see your paintings drying in the art room after school. They were beautiful." She looked into his eyes, searching for any hint of sarcasm or deception. There was none.

"If we left together," he continued, "you could paint anything you liked, whenever you liked." His voice held so much promise in it.

"Jace," She wanted so badly to yes. So badly. "It's not that simple. We can't just get in a car and leave. The idea is there, but these things, they cost money-"

Jace shook his head. "You don't have to worry about money. That's all taken care of" She wondered what he meant by this, but let it go.

Clary sighed, "Okay, fine. But, what about my parents? What about Izzy and Simon? I can't just leave them."

_Or can you? _Said a rather loud, annoying voice in the back of her head. _They don't need you anymore. Simon and Izzy have each other now and your parents haven't needed you for years. You don't have any obligation here. _

_Shut up. _She told it. _Shut up shut up shut up._

"Look, Jace." She slid out of the booth, leaving three dollars on the table in front of her. "I want to." It was true. "But I can't." _Not true. _It was the voice again. She ignored it. "I don't even know you, not really. I... I just can't." She turned on her heel, about to walk away when she felt a hand on her elbow, the heat from Jace's body burning into her skin.

"Clary, please." He slid a napkin into her hand, "Just think about it okay? Call me anytime. I'll be there." And with that she tore away from him, tripping on her heels, knowing that if she stayed any longer she would give in to him. And she couldn't do that.

Because that's not what girls like her did.

**Okay, so first I want to apologize for putting Lake Lyn in there. I always hate it in AU's when people do things like make the town "Idris" or make the High School "Shadowhunter High" Or "Shadow High" or "Idris high" or "The Institute" or some shit [excuse my French]. I mean seriously, what is that? Sorry, but I find it tacky and unoriginal ("You're tacky and I hate you" idk where that's from, I just know the quote). Anyway, I honestly couldn't think of any better names for a Lake (I know I'm such a hypocrite). So I'm sorry. Forgive me?**

**Anyhow, all ranting aside, please review! It would really help, you know, motivate and stuff.**

**Thanks for reading, I'll see you next chapter.**

**Love,  
>Beth<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

**Okay, YAY! Another chapter! Again! I am on a roll, aren't I?**

**Okay so this one's a tad shorter, only because I didn't think it needed to be any longer. Usually I don't worry about chapter lengths. I just write until the chapter ends, and then however long it is, is however long it is. Usually they end up like 5 pages on word (font size 11 Calibri [body]). This one's only about four.**

**DISCLAIMER: DON'T OWN M.I (can't be stuffed thinking of something witty. It's late, and I have school in the morning. I'm doing this instead of maths.)**

Jocelyn, her mother, and Luke were asleep when Clary got back. She didn't blame them; it was almost fifteen minutes until three in the morning. Her parents had a steady routine of dinner at seven, TV until nine thirty and bed at ten thirty. It was the same every night. She knew the routine like the back of her hand.

Stepping out from her parent's doorway into the foyer, she gently slipped off her pumps, placing her bare feet onto the soft, woollen carpet.

Clary liked the way the long fibres felt squished between her toes. She could honestly say that it was one of the only things she liked about the building she lived in.

There was nothing wrong with the house itself, really. It was a decent looking, two story, redbrick abode, complete with neat green hedge lining the front and white picket fence. There was nothing wrong with it at all. She'd lived in it her entire life and had never had anything to complain about; Luke always kept it maintained to perfection, never letting there be a floorboard loose or patch of paint peeling.

It was just that it... lacked character. It didn't feel like home, not lately. When she was a kid it was perfect. But then she'd gotten older and the little things had started to make her feel eerie; like the doors that never squeaked, not once, or the constantly dust free photo frames adorned with family photos. All three of them smiling like they had no care in the world.

The photo itself was rather deceitful. In the picture they look happy and careless, smiling at the camera like they had all just been sharing a joke and the photographer had just happened to walk in just in time to capture the after affects. In reality, it had been quite different. She remembered the day it had been taken. She was ten at the time, and Luke and Jocelyn had just started seeing each other. She could still see the stressed out look on her mother's face as she bustled between the two of them, smoothing out wrinkles and playing with strands of Clary's bright red hair, so it sit just right. In fact, the rosiness apparent in her mother's cheeks in the portrait was not from laughing hard at a pun, but from fretting over a lock of particularly frizzy red curls. It made Clary giggle to think about it; it was like a secret joke. Anybody looking at the photo would never have guessed the tension in the air as the flash from the camera lit up the room. They looked perfectly happy, perfectly normal. That was exactly what Jocelyn had wanted, but Clary knew the truth.

Now, she slipped into her bedroom, glancing at the digital clock on the table next to her bed. _2:45_.

She was instantly hit with the feeling that someone had been in there, but pushed it away. She was used to it, anyways. Jocelyn was constantly in there putting things back in drawers and fixing bed sheets. Clary had long gotten over the fact that she didn't have any privacy. It didn't bother her, not any more.

She sat down on her bed, smoothing out the light blue duvet cover beneath her. Facing the mirror, she began the slow, tedious job of pulling out the tons of sparkling bobby pins that Isabelle had shoved into her hair that after noon to keep it in its elegant up-do.

While she was pulling out the pins, one by one, her mind unintentionally drifted to Jace. She still had his napkin, which, she'd discovered, held a series of digits, scrawled with blue ink in surprisingly neat handwriting.

She thought about his offer. About how insane it was. About how badly she wanted to take it. Shaking her head, she pulled out the last bobby pin and shook out her curls, feeling the cool locks billow down her back, tickling her skin. She glanced at the clock again. _2:55. _it had taken longer than she had realised.

_That's it._ She told herself, _you have to stop this. You know it's stupid. You can't keep thinking like this. Stop it. _

But her mind wasn't listening to her. It kept flashing back to Jace sitting at the chipped table, the way he made her laugh like never before, his words repeating themselves over and over in her head; _Drive and never look back. Drive and never look back. Never look back._

Clary stared mindlessly at the clock as it clicked closer and closer to three in the morning. She watched as the glowing green digits flipped; _2:57, 2:58, 2:59._

Her mother had once said to her; _"Nothing good happens after 2am." _But her mother had said a lot of things. Her mother had said that she shouldn't risk applying for that scholarship at the University of Florida. Her mother had said that she would just be disappointed when she didn't get it. Her mother had also said that it would be best if she didn't move into a dorm in college. Her mother said it would be cheaper if she just stayed where she was. Yes, her mother had said a lot of things. What if her mother had been wrong?

Clary blinked, and the clock made a dull beep noise at the sound of another hour passing. Clary looked at her phone, which had somehow made it into her hands without her even meaning to pick it up.

She flipped open.

Half an hour later, Clary found herself slipping out the front door into the now slightly chilled summer air. She was still wearing the pick chiffon dress, but now her feet bore a pair of gray vans, and she was wrapped in a soft, dappled gray cardigan.

As she made her way down the gray cement garden path, she wrapped the jumper tighter around her body and slipped out the eerily quiet, white picket gate. She stood on the curb and dropped the duffel bag at her feet, praying to God that Jace would actually turn up.

She hadn't known what to pack at first. She had stood there for about ten minutes thinking;_ how do I fit my entire life into one bag?_

In the end she'd settled for a few changes of clothes, her sketchpad and pencils, her iPod, a toiletries bag, a couple of dearly loved books -Jane Eyre, To Kill A Mockingbird and The Hitchhikers Guide To The Galaxy- and a framed photo of her, Jocelyn, Luke, Isabelle and Simon at graduation. She would miss them, she knew that. She'd left them all roughly scrawled letters, giving some sort of explanation. She knew that they probably deserved more than that, but she didn't have time.

Clary figured they'd be angry, especially Jocelyn. Maybe that was why she had decided to leave unannounced, in the dead of night. Because she knew that if she were to tell them face to face, they would try and convince her to stay. And she would crumble, giving into their pleads.

Clary breathed in the cool night air, shakily. A couple of streams of white light spilled down the street, and she had to squint past the glare to see Jace's blue ford pulling up next to where she stood on the footpath. She looked in through the window to see the older boy's usually playful golden eyes staring up at her. She picked up her bag and slid into the car, onto a beige leather bar seat.

They looked at each other in the eye, green melting into gold.

"You know this is insane right?" She didn't break eye contact.

"Yup." He blinked. "You sure this is what you want?"

"An hour ago you were practically begging me to run away with you, which I still don't understand by the way. And now you're asking me if I'm _sure_?"

He smiled lightly at that, the sides of his mouth tilting up softly.

"I don't want to do this unless you're absolutely positive it's what you want to do. I don't want you to feel pressured or anything."

It was her turn to smile, "I'm sure." A grin broke across his face, lighting up his features, "Just promise me one thing first?"

"Anything."

"Promise me you're not a crazy stalker slash serial killer, and that you're not going to kidnap me or rape me or something equally as awful."

Jace laughed, loud at this, and Clary found herself grinning.

"Oh, Miss. Ginger, you do not have to worry about that at all." Clary rolled her eyes at the nickname, but otherwise said nothing.

They were silent for a second for a second, the excitement of what they were doing starting to settle into the air around them. Jace looked at her and tilted his head to the side.

"Name a place."

"What?"

"Name a place," he repeated, "any place. Or a direction. The first thing that comes to your head. Go!" He clapped his hands together, making Clary jump.

"West." She said suddenly. She's been about to say east, but then she realised that if they went East, they would just drive into the ocean. That wouldn't be very productive.

And with that, Jace pressed his foot down on the accelerator. She felt a thrill go through her body with the momentum of the car going forward. A smile spread across her face as she looked at Jace and realised that he was smiling just as big as she was.

She kept grinning until they reached the sign at the town border that said; "You are now leaving Middleton, Home Of The Middleton Grizzly's!"

It was then, as they passed the idiotic sign, when it really sunk in. It was then that she started laughing. She didn't even know why.

She was just filled with a sudden, uncontrollable glee. It was like there was some sort of electricity fizzing addictively underneath her skin. It was the feeling of change, new beginnings, and fresh starts.

Clary, through the hiccupping sounds of her giggles, heard Jace start laughing too, with just as much tenacity, possibly more. He had a nice laugh, she thought to herself. It was rough but bubbly at the same time. It was times like these that she wished she could capture sound on canvas the way she could with images. Jace's laugh, Clary thought, sounded like children's feet sloshing through rain puddles.

After a while, their gasping laughter quieted and they sighed, leaning back in the chair, their cheeks red and eyes wet from tears. Clary smiled as Jace looked at her sideways, keeping his eyes on the road in front of them.

"You know what?" He said, as she stifled a yawn, "This could quite possibly become an adventure of very epic proportions, don't you think? She mumbled a sort of agreement, feeling the affects of the caffeine she'd drunk only about two hours before already wearing off.

She stared out the window at the sky, which was slowly turning from deep, velvet navy to dark topaz as the sun rose higher behind the horizon.

Clary closed her eyes and listened to the hum of the tyres travelling over tarmac, and for the first time in what seemed like forever, she fell into a dreamless sleep.

**Hey, so what do you think?**

**Can I just say that that's not how I see Jocelyn in the books at all? I just made her like this for the story. I actually think she's the opposite of this. **

**Anyway, I'll update soon as possible. Please review!**

**Love,  
>Beth<strong>


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello again! Hi, sorry, I promised I'd have this up ages ago. But then I didn't. It's been a really busy few weeks. I had my exams and everything, so I freaked out about that for a while. It's okay, I passed. I got A's in all but one (I got a B in that one). **

**DISCLAIMER: Uh, if I owned M.I I wouldn't need to use the word disclaimer. If I owned M.I I wouldn't be sitting in my room at 2 am writing fanfiction. **

**Enjoy the story!**

Hazy, yellow white sunlight glared through the windscreen as Clary blinked the sleep out of her eyes. She could tell by the position of the sun that it was late morning.

She slumped, curled up in a ball on the cracked leather seats of the old falcon. For a few moments she blanked, and completely forgot everything she had done the night before. Then, in a rush, it all came back to her.

She'd run away. She'd run away from home; from her family, from her friends, from her tiny, insignificant life. She'd run away from her home and family and friends and tiny, insignificant life with Jace, of all people. A boy who she had only met less than 18 hours ago. A boy she didn't even know.

She sat up in her seat, feeling the joints in her shoulders and back click into place, and waited for the feeling of regret to seep its way into her mind.

Nothing.

There was no feeling. _Odd_, she thought, _it should be there_.

But it wasn't.

_Huh. _

She didn't feel anything extreme really. Just kind of light.

The window had been left open, letting in the hot, late June air. Clary squinted and peered outside. She appeared to be at a gas station parking lot. She could hear the bubbly laughter of children coming from the playground a few yards away, and there was music playing somewhere. A twangy guitar melody and high, fluttery voice to accompany it. Across the parking lot was three other vehicles; A silver people mover, a faded red Ute and a stained, white campervan, which the music seemed be sourced from.

Clary yawned and stretched, stiff from sleeping in such an awkward position. She was about to push the door open when she realised she was still wearing the pink dress she had been last night. Reaching into the back of the station wagon, she snatched up her duffel bag. Slinging it over he shoulder, she pushed open the stiff door and stepped out into the oven like heat.

Looking around, she could see that they were in a remote looking scrub covered area of country, the gas station being situated off to the side of what appeared to be a main highway. Now that she was out of the car, she could hear the distant rumbling and whooshing of passing cars.

She made her way across the parking lot to the gas station store. Still no sign of Jace. A paranoid part of her brain was buzzing, convinced that he'd dumped her in the middle of the desert with no way of getting back home. She knew it was stupid though. There was no way he would have left a car like that out in the middle of nowhere. Clary didn't know all that much about cars, but she did know how much effort it took to get an old car like that to even run, let alone purr along the road like this one did. Jace must have slaved for hours over that thing.

Sure enough, when Clary stepped into the cool air-conditioned gas station-store, she was pleased and slightly relieved to see a messy, but cheery looking Jace scanning one of the many isles of overpriced snacks. Hanging from one of his hands was a ratty calico bag, into which he appeared to throwing various items. He had just picked up a bottle of shampoo when Clary snuck up behind him, poking him in the ribs.

Jumping slightly, Jace turned to see a smug looking Clary. He beamed at her. She couldn't help but smile back, the guilelessness of his smile taking her by surprise.

"Morning, sleepy head." He chucked the shampoo into the bag, "How did you sleep?"

"Mmmm, fine." She blinked lazily up at him, "I'm guessing you didn't?"

They walked together to the front desk. "Not entirely true. I sneaked in a few zees around eight."

Clary frowned.

"What time is it now?"

"'Bout eleven thirty." They arrived at the desk. "Pump seventeen." He said to the middle aged Asian man manning the desk.

Jace began pulling things out of the bag. There was a couple of bags of chips, a bottle of shampoo, a packet of pens and yellow note pad, area map, two bottles of chilled ice coffee and two bottles of diet coke.

"You like diet, right?"

"Yeah," She smiled sheepishly, "I'm kinda addicted."

It was true. She drank so much of the stuff, it was almost ridiculous. It was partly because she liked the taste, she couldn't stand the real stuff. But it was also partly because she didn't like drinking water and milk made her feel sick. So she went for the less healthy, more expensive alternative.

Jace paid for the gas and the items. He looked down at her, and then at the duffel bag under her arm.

"I'm guessing you want to change?" She nodded.

He smiled, "There's a bathroom at the back of the store."

xxxx

Sighing in relief, Clary slipped out of the uncomfortable dress. The pink chiffon had created red marks along the back of her thighs, and she hadn't even realised how tight the bodice had been until she was released.

She pulled on a loose blue tee shirt out of her bag, along with a pair of denim shorts. Exiting the bathroom stall, she glanced at herself in the chipped, smudged mirror. She looked halfway to decent, considering she'd been sleeping in a car. Her hair was pretty awry, the starch orange curls flying in all different directions around her head, and her eyes held light gray bags underneath them. Her pale cheeks still retained red indents from the car seat. Sighing, she pulled a brush through her hair, pulling out the knots but causing the red ringlets to spring up further. She splashed water on her face and dried it using a rough paper towel that might as well have been sand paper. Figuring that that was about as good as she was going to get in these conditions, she pushed her way back out of the grotty bathroom and into the equally grotty store.

xxxx

Jace, squinting in the bright sunlight, leaned on the hood of his car. He pulled a pair of sunglasses out of his pocket and slipped them on. He liked wearing sunglasses. He imagined they gave him a sort "Blues Brothers" look.

At this point in time, he was having trouble actually grasping the immensity of what he had done; of what he had convinced Clary to do. Clary of all people.

Clary. Just the mention of her name caused his heart to stutter in his chest. Clary was not an ordinary girl, for him at least. Jace was honest; he knew that she was nothing like the type of girl that usually caught his attention. It's not like he only dated dumb sluts or anything. His most recent girlfriend, Kaelie, had been very smart. He'd liked her. But she'd wanted something long term and Jace didn't do well with long term. To be honest, no girl had really caught his attention for long enough.

But Clary was different, so very different. She was... He didn't even have words to describe her.

To be truthful, he hadn't even taken any notice of Clary until that fateful day, last January. He'd just come back from Christmas break, and was walking through the Art room. It wasn't a place he usually found himself, but Sebastian had just come back from College, was driving him to school for some "brotherly bonding" and had dropped him off on the wrong side of the school.

It was when he'd passed by Art room #3 when he saw it. It was just a small art piece, black and white, and simple, just one of many others in the window. It couldn't have been bigger than an A4 sheet of paper. But there was something in the curve of lines, the smoothness of the blackbird's wings. There was something that stood out to him, fascinated him. In the bottom left corner lay a name, scrawled lightly in led; _Clary Fray_.

_Like the herb,_ he'd thought.

That was the first time he had even heard of her. And for weeks the name lay, dormant in the back of his mind, nothing more than a small, tickling undertone to his thoughts, like a cloud that floated idly through his dreams. But then, in the third week of the semester, he'd been called to the office to deal with a Timetable issue. _There's been an overflow of oncoming students applying for your "Leisure and Recreation" Class_ they told him, _you're going to have to switch classes. _

He must have had Clary's name in his mind when he looked at class list, because the moment he saw _Fine Art_ listed in between _Photography _and _Band, _he'd blurted it out before he could stop himself.

And that's how Jace had found himself in Ms Richards Fine Art class, two rows back from Clary, who was seated in the middle row, off to the side. He'd known it was her, straight away. There was no way he could have mistaken her drawing.

And she was so _beautiful_. Her untamed ringlets were always pulled up into a loose bun, half falling off the side of her head, and her pale face seemed like porcelain to him. Clary, he had noticed, seemed to almost want to stay anonymous. She never dressed outrageously or even fashionably, sticking to oversized cardigans, skinny jeans and converse. She never really spoke to anyone, keeping to herself aside from the occasional polite interaction with the teacher or the kid that sat next to her.

The funny thing he'd found, was that she spent half of her time in class looking out the window. He'd expected her to be more _into it. _But she seemed to want to do only the minimum amount of work required, with only the minimum amount effort required to pass. But even then, her art had been magical. He was seated in the ideal place to watch her draw. They were all in black and white, but shaded deceptively, in a way that almost made you believe there _was_ colour. It took his breath away.

The entire time he'd been in that class, he had never been able to bring himself to talk to her. Not because he was nervous – he didn't get nervous, it wasn't in his nature. But because she'd never seemed like she wanted to be disturbed. Even when she was staring out the window, lost in her own, private world, she'd seemed closed off. He felt as if he were to approach her, he would ruin it and break her out of her reverie. Burst her bubble. And that, to him, seemed worse than if he never got to talk to her. She was so beautiful when she was lost in her head. Her eyes glassed over, and she got this peaceful, blissful look on her face. He wanted to crawl inside her head and see whatever it was that she saw. It seemed to him that her usual bored, tired expression lifted when she daydreamed, like she was thinking of better, more important things than what lay before her in the classroom. Better and more important things than him.

It was during those art classes that he began to realise that Clary did not belong in a classroom. Clary did not belong in that school and Clary did not belong in that town.

It was also during those art classes that he began to wonder whether_ he_ belonged in that classroom, that school, that town.

It wasn't until he saw her in the Pandemonium that he'd felt okay to talk to her. And he wanted to talk to her _so bad_. She'd been sitting by herself, like she usually was, but this time it was different. This time she seemed _lonely_.

This had made him unbelievably angry. It outraged him that anyone in their right mind would let a girl as beautiful as Clary get _lonely_. He found himself fuming, completely outraged at her friends, the two dancing, laughing idiots, to leave Clary by herself. He wanted to go slap them both in the face repeatedly for being so foolish.

So he'd gone up to her and sat himself down in front of her, his heart leaping hurdles in his chest. He was surprised that he had even managed to speak, let alone keep his calm and smooth demeanour that he always had around girls. It wasn't until they were alone in the parking that he let anything completely honest slip through.

When he saw her in the Diner he knew that there must be something else working there. Whether it was the universe or God, he didn't know, but there had to have been something higher than pure chance working with him that night. To run into someone, who he usually only ever saw once a day in scheduled classes, twice in a four hour period was more than just coincidence. It had to be.

It was that thought right there that prompted him to suggest her leaving with him. It was a plan he'd had in his head for a few weeks, but it had only ever involved him driving alone. He'd never dreamed that he'd even get to talk to Clary, let alone convince her to drive across the country with him. But sitting there, in the old Diner, bathed in starch fluorescence it had seemed within his grasp. So he'd grabbed at it. Even when at first she'd said no, he'd still hung on to the small glint of hope that burned in his chest. When she'd left, though, he'd pretty much given up on it.

_Great. _He'd thought, _The first time you speak to her you manage to not only freak her out, but convince her that you're a psycho as well. Well done, Wayland. Well done indeed. _

Maybe he thought about her too much. He thought that maybe he was a bit stalkerish, but it wasn't like he followed her around or took photos through her bedroom window. He only ever really looked at her in art. He wasn't even sure what he felt for Clary yet. He knew he cared for her, but he wasn't ready to call it love. More like infatuation.

But then she'd called. She'd actually called. Literally thirty seconds after his clock had struck three am, she'd called. He hadn't thought she ever would. But she did. And he'd turned up; of course he'd turned up. He'd been slightly terrified, as he drove up the neat row of carefully trimmed suburban houses that she wouldn't be there. That she'd pulled out and stood him up.

But she hadn't. She was there, and she was waiting for him. It might have been his imagination, but he could have sworn he saw relief on her face as he approached her, his headlights lighting up her body and the little pink dress that she hadn't yet taken off.

He still couldn't believe it; couldn't believe that she was here with him, couldn't believe that it was _her_ crossing the gas station parking lot, crossing to get to _him_. It made him almost giddy with happiness.

"Hey," She said when she got within earshot of him and Jace had to strain to keep his smile from overtaking his face, "You ready to go?" She was smiling too. Was it his imagination or did she seem almost as happy as him?

"Only if you are." He answered. Slipping around to the passenger side of the car, he opened the door for her. Rolling her eyes, she laughed.

"You know, I can open a door for myself." She got in the car and he closed the door behind her.

"I know," He began as he crossed over to the driver's side, "But my mother taught me nothing if not to be a gentleman." She smiled at him.

"It's 106 miles to Chicago, we got a full tank of gas, half a pack of cigarettes, its dark and we're wearing sunglasses."

Clary laughed and looked at him like he was crazy.

"But we're not going to Chicago, neither of us smokes and it's the middle of the day."

"It's a quote!" He exclaimed as they pulled onto the freeway. She blinked at him.

"Blues Brothers?" He tried. Clary's face remained blank.

"C'mon!" He laughed and she shrugged.

"I'm sorry!" She said, giggling, "I've never even heard of it."

"Damn girl, you have not yet lived!" she leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes, bathing in the sunlight as the warm wind from the freeway flew through the car through the open window, lightly brushing around them, tangling Jace's hair against his temple, "We've got to get some good movies into you."

She smiled, peering at him sideways. They kept on talking like that, laughing as they cruised down the road, basking in the reality that they had all the time in the world.

Neither of them mentioned Middleton.

xxxx

_Meanwhile..._

"Luke!" Jocelyn called from the kitchen where she was stripping fresh yellow roses to replace the wilting ones in the sitting room.

"Yes dear?"He replied, getting up. She probably already had a list of things to fix around the house for the weekend.

Luke was a very patient man, even when it came to Jocelyn. She was always having him fix something up in the house. Whether it was repainting all the door frames or trimming the hedges in the front garden, there was always something to keep him occupied for the day.

He didn't mind, not really. Jocelyn was a perfectionist, always had been, even when they were children. So the never ending list of chores didn't bother him because he was making her happy. That was all he cared about; that and Clary.

He worried about her sometimes. Her mother's constant need to create perfection tended to weigh down hard on the young girl, who wasn't really her mother's vision of "prefect". Clary was messy, disjointed, quiet and absent minded. Luke knew that Jocelyn would be a lot happier if Clary had turned out to be the cheerful, athletic, neat, straight A student that she had been. But Luke also knew that Clary was not that person. So he did worry about her sometimes.

"Could you get Clary up, please?" Jocelyn asked now, "It's almost midday! She'll miss the entire day."

"Yes, of course sweetheart."

Luke pulled himself of the couch and made his way up the stairs. As soon as he reached the landing he could sense something was different. Concerned, he picked up his pace, reaching his step daughter's bedroom door.

Pushing it open, he was alarmed to find it empty.

It was also very clean. The bed had been made to perfection, hospital corners and everything. The desk had been cleaned off, the rug straightened and the full length mirror had been wiped of smudges. Even the lamp shades had been dusted. On the bedside table closest to Luke lay a stack of envelopes. On the top of the stack lay an envelope with his name scrawled in Clary's messy scrawl across the front of it.

He picked it up and gently, he peeled open the carefully seeled fold.

Inside was a note written in blue biro. It read;

_Dear Luke. _

_Before I say anything, I want you to know that I'm sorry. This wasn't your fault, or Mom's, or anyone's really. This was all me. _

_I'll be long gone by the time you read this. It's hard to explain, but I've left. I know pretty ambiguous right? But that's basically all there is to it. I've left. _

_I've left with my friend Jace. I trust him. Don't worry; he's not my boyfriend or anything, so this isn't one of those notes. He's just a friend. I wish I could give you more of an explanation, more information, but I don't have any. I don't know where we're going. Hopefully somewhere warm, closer to the equator. _

_I'm not going to college. I'm sorry. I've been thinking, and I don't think I was supposed to go to college, you know? _

_I just don't think I can stay in this town much longer. It might be the right place for you and Mom and even Izzy and Simon, but it's not the right place for me. Don't tell Mom that part. She won't get it, you know how she is. I'm hoping you'll understand this Luke. I think you will. _

_This isn't a decision I made lightly. But I think I need this. I'm suffocating. _

_This isn't forever, you know. I will come back. I don't know when, but I'll come back. I wish I could say goodbye in person, but I don't want to see you or her cry. _

_Look after Mom okay? I love you, never question that. But I think I need to do this, for me. I'm sorry; I love you, and Mom. _

_Goodbye. I love you. _

Luke sat down on the bed heavily, the words on the note sinking into his brain. Then he smiled and chuckled a relieve chuckle to himself.

_It's about time, _he thought.

"I love you too baby girl," He said, then, half to Clary, half to himself, "Good luck."

**What do you think? Any good?**

**So, we get an insight in to Jace's view of what's been happening, and why he asked Clary to come with him. This chapter is kinda for Ashley, who was wondering why Jace was so keen on taking Clary with him. **

**Do you think I'm taking it too fast? Do you think Jace is too full on?**

**Review? Please? I love reviews. They are my main energy source :3**


	5. Chapter 5

**I'M BACK YOU GUYS! HI!**

**Did you miss me? No? Okay. **

**Anyhow, I wrote you a chapter! Sorry it didn't come sooner. I've been INSANELY busy with school. Seriously. I'm not kidding. I go to a private school, and it had like the best academic achievement in the state or whatever, so they're always like 'HOMEWORK ARGGGGGHHH BAHHBEJBCJBJE BETH STOP LOOKING OUT THE WINDOW STOP EATING YOUR PENCIL WHY IS YOUR DRESS SO WRINKLED HOMEWORK DO IT ARRRGH!'**

**Wasn't that a good impression of my SOSE teacher? I thought so. **

**Anywho, this is long, but I hope you like it. **

**DISCLAIMER: I can't own an entire story. Apparently I have too much SOSE homework; where would I find the time?**

**Enjoy. **

Jordan stopped at the side of the road, dropping his duffel bag at his feet. As he watched, the dark shape of the interstate bus shrunk over the horizon, disappearing into nothing. He wished he could have been on that bus, but he'd only had enough money to get him to Ohio.

It was fine though. He didn't mind. Anything was better than what he was coming from.

Groaning, he slid onto the dusty path beside the drag. His back was sore from sleeping upright in the stiff bus seat all night, his hair felt greasy and lank on his head and the clothes he was wearing were three days old. If he was thinking honestly, then he'd expected a bit more that night he'd climbed down the trellis outside his bedroom window and turned his back on the only life he'd ever known. He'd wanted to head somewhere sunny and glamorous. Somewhere exciting.

Or at least somewhere with access to a shower.

Jordan pulled his legs to his chest and thought of the alternative. He could still be in that sewerage dump of a town in New Jersey, with his father. The thought made Jordan feel sick and reflexively his hand drifted to the tender spot beneath his ribcage. He winced; it was still sore.

So he was better off where he was. Even if where he was was on the side of an interstate highway in the middle of Ohio.

XXX

"Jace," Clary whispered. She took the foot that wasn't on the accelerator and, lifting her leg onto the bench seat, jabbed him in the ribs with her toes. He stirred in his sleep, mumbling something incoherent under his breath. He didn't wake. Clary let out a dramatic sigh. She slowed the car down to twenty and jabbed him in the ribs again as the speck in the distance that had first caught her attention became less of a speck and more of an actual thing.

Her blonde companion still refused to wake.

"JACE!" She yelled abruptly, delivering a firm 'kick' to his thigh. It worked the trick.

Jace awoke with a jerk, his elbow colliding with the window screen, hitting him right in the funny bone. Clary couldn't help but laugh at him as he bit his lip, whining as the pain that the redheaded girl knew all too well travelled up his arm.

"Agh, ow." He said, and she felt a little bit bad for him. She herself had done similar things; woken up, falling off of her bed, headfirst into the floor. Although, admittedly, she hadn't had someone kicking her in the ribs moments beforehand. Now, Jace grumbled to himself, cracking the stiff joints in his shoulders as Clary pulled up to a stop beside the speck. She couldn't help but notice how cute he looked when he hadn't had enough sleep; eyelids slipping lazily over very dark gold eyes, blonde hair in a tangled mess all over his head. He yawned, squeezing his eyes shut. He blinked at her and smiled a one dimpled smile.

"Morning," He drawled happily.

"Morning," She replied brightly, feeling quite exuberant, despite the fact that she'd been driving all night. He looked around, noticing the fact that they were no longer moving.

"Why'd we stop?" He asked her. She grinned.

"Because of that," She pointed at the speck, which was actually a boy, who had been waiting patiently beside the idling car. He couldn't have been any older than they were. He was tall and slim, with the type of olive skin that seemed to hold its beach-esque tan all year long. His tired hazel eyes were rimmed with thick, dark eyelashes, and his hair tumbled off of his head in dark –albeit slightly greasy- curls. He held a duffel bag in one hand and the other gripped the strap of the guitar that was strapped to his back. He grinned at them, one of those big, goofy grins.

Jace rolled down the window and peered at the boy. Then he looked back at Clary.

"You want to pick him up, don't you?" She smiled sheepishly.

"Of course I do." She leaned towards Jace, "Who knows what creeps he could get into a car with! He could get murdered or raped or something!" Jace looked at her doubtfully.

"I'm sure he can take care of himself." She pouted.

"Please?" She drew out the word, hoping to win him over. It must have worked, because Jace sighed and turned to the boy.

"Get in," Jace ordered, and the kid wasted no time in throwing his bag and guitar into the backseat of the Falcon.

XXX

Jordan was just considering his options – none of them particularly hopeful- when he saw the small figure approach from the distance enlarging as it came closer and closer. Before long, the car pulled up beside him.

It was beautiful car. The Ford was old and worn out looking, its faded blue paint peeling around the fender. But he could tell by the fact that it wasn't falling apart in front of them that it had been cared for and loved and impeccably maintained.

The window rolled down, and a guy around his age- possibly older- looked up at him. He said nothing to him, turning to face the person in the driver's seat. There was an exchanging of words, and after a few moments the guy in the passenger's seat – tall, blonde, burly – looked up at him, and raked his eyes up and down Jordan's dishevelled body.

"Get in." He said, and Jordan hurried to pack his bag and guitar into the backseat of the car.

Climbing in after them, he took the opportunity to study whoever it was in the driver's seat. He was surprised to see it was a petite, redheaded girl, covered from head to toe in a splattering of freckles.

Looking at his two saviours, Jordan grinned.

It looked like his luck was changing for the better.

XXX

"Thanks man," He held his hand out to Jace from the back seat, "I'm Jordan, by the way." Jace took his hand, shaking it.

"Jace." Clary turned to face Jordan, smiling, "I'm Clary," She gave a small wave in his direction, "Hi."

"Well," Jordan said, "It's lovely to meet you Clary."

"Out," Jace said to her, making shooing motions with his hands. She looked at him, stunned.

"What? Why?" He rolled his eyes exasperatedly,

"Move." He told her, and she understood what he meant, "I'm driving now."

It was her turn to roll her eyes. They had been travelling with each other for almost a week now – they were somewhere in Ohio- and Jace had only let Clary drive once, which was last night. And that was only because he could barely keep his eyes open. Jace was very protective over his car, as it turned out. She was surprised that he even let them eat and drink in it. He had explained it to her;

"It's like you and your art." He'd said to her, "How would you feel if I took your sketchbook and started doodling in it? You wouldn't like it, would you?"

So, it made some sense to her, but she still thought he was being too paranoid.

Now, she slipped out the door on the driver's side, walking around to sit in the passenger seat. Jace slid over to the steering wheel, looking comfortably in his zone.

"So," he said over his shoulder to Jordan, "Where you headed?"

"Memphis," He answered, "Is that okay with you folks?"

"I suppose so," Jace seemed to think about this more, "We'd have to travel south-west a bit though." He looked at Clary,

"Is that cool with you?" He asked. She shrugged.

"Yeah. Let's go for it." Jace drummed the steering wheel with his fingers.

"Alright, Memphis it is." He hummed to himself, turning out onto the deserted freeway.

XXX

Jace watched as Clary leaned over and switched on the radio, turning to a station with loud clashing guitar riffs and a deep drum beat; totally inappropriate for that time of the morning – just past eight. But that was something he had begun to notice about her. She just seemed to throw random bits of traditional custom (and consideration) out the window, replacing them with whatever the hell she felt like. The day before she'd had sushi for breakfast.

Yet Jace could not bring himself to care. Which was odd, if he thought about it. Jace knew he was a little high maintenance, easily annoyed and hard to live with. If it had been anyone else blasting Nirvana at eight o clock in the morning, it would have driven him mental. But it wasn't anyone else. It was Clary. In fact, he was begging to see these quirky habits of hers as something beautiful; something to be admired. He thought that perhaps he might be viewing her through rose tinted glasses, but did he really even care? So what if he idolised the girl; nobody else seemed to –God knows why. She deserved to be admired.

Jace was pulled out of his reverie by the soft tinkling of Clary's musical voice.

"Why are you going to Tennessee?" She asked Jordan. The dark haired boy looked a bit muddled.

"I don't know."

"Then why did you want to go?"

"I don't know."

Clary just looked at him, bemused.

"Surely there's a reason."

"Not always. I mean, what's our reason for going wherever the hell it is we're going? " Jace had not even made the conscious decision to start talking, but now that he had, he didn't seem to be able to stop.

"I mean, we don't even know where we're going, but we're still going there. Maybe it's the reason that always holds us back, you know? Maybe if we just stopped thinking "Why" and just started doing it, then we would get so much more out of life." Clary seemed to consider this.

"I get what you're saying, but, maybe we have to think about the consequences sometimes, you know? So we don't end up hurting someone or something we care about?" Jace shook his head.

"I'm not talking about consequences; I'm talking about the actual _"why". _Like, say, what if I wanted to learn to speak Arabic or something? Or learn how to cook macaroons? What exactly is holding me back? Nothing, but the fact that there's not really a reason for someone like me to learn those things."

Clary and Jordan seemed to consider this.

"So what you mean," Jordan spoke slowly, as if feeling his way through, "Is that we get too caught up in the reason we do things, that we forget to just let go and do things?" Jace thumped a hand hard on the leather steering wheel in triumph.

"Exactly."

Clary said nothing. She just continued staring out the window, at the sparse scrub that surrounded them.

XXX

It was almost half an hour since the conversation on 'why?'

Clary could not say why the subject bothered her so much. Maybe it was the fact that she'd never done something for no reason in her entire life, until last week.

Growing up illegitimate with her mother, she'd grown up careful. She approached everything she did with caution. Because what would happen to her if she didn't? She would get hurt. At least, that's what her mother always told her.

"_You have to be careful Clary, sweetie. You have to tread with caution, take every step with heed. There are many people who will not hesitate to hurt you." _

Thos were the words she had lived by her entire life. They were like life law, to her. Or at least they had been, until that night.

It wasn't that she regretted going with Jace. She didn't. But she couldn't help the flower of anxiety opening in her chest every time she took a minute to properly think about it. It was so unlike what she knew; uncharted territory. But that was hardly remarkable; it wasn't everyday you jumped in a car and rode off into the sunset – or, in their case, the sunrise.

She scoffed, mentally. It all sounded so cliché, when you put it that way. But she and Jace weren't even together – like he would ever be interested in her that way. She knew that he must like her; why else would he choose her as a travel mate? But that was it- he only liked her. As a friend. And she felt the same way. He so wasn't her type.

_Tall, handsome and charming isn't your type? _It was that voice in her head again.

"_Shut up", _she told it_, "I don't like him that way. He's just my friend." _

_So why can't you stop thinking about him? How come every time you look at him, your heart starts to race and you have to actively keep yourself from losing yourself in his smile? How come you can't get his eyes, golden and sweet, like praline, out of your head?_

"Clary?" The sound of Jordan's thick New Jersey accent pulled her from her thoughts.

"Huh?" She sounded dumb, even to her own ears. Jordan looked at her carefully. Jace peeled his eyes off of the road for a millisecond to look at her, eyebrow pulled together in concern.

"You just had this really angry look on your face for a second." The hitchhiker said, "Like you were gonna freak out and kill us with your mind powers or something."

"I have mind powers?"

"I think he was referencing to 'Carrie"." Jace put in. "Were you?"

"Uh huh. They kinda have similar names, don't they? Carrie and Clary."

"I suppose they do."

"What's 'Carrie'?" Both of the boys looked at her like she'd just asked them something stupid like, 'Who's the queen?' or 'Where do eggs come from?'

"You don't know what 'Carrie' is?" Jace asked, "did you, like, grow up under a rock? 'Carrie' is a classic. " Jordan jeered.

"Are sure you've got your brain in check, Clary?" Jace laughed, and she felt herself going red.

"Maybe she lost it underneath all that hair," The blonde boy mocked. She snapped.

"Stop the car." She said, her tone clipped.

"Huh?" He seemed baffled.

"I said; stop the car!" She yelled. Jace sort of looked at her, baffled, but slowed the car to a stop. She wrenched the door open and stepped out, marching back in the direction she came from.

Clary knew she was being immature. She knew she was overreacting, knew that they hadn't meant it. She knew her temper was infamously short. But she couldn't help herself.

Her lip began to tremble, and her eyes watered, threatening to overflow. She heard quick, light footsteps behind her, but didn't turn around. She just kept walking, fast, towards the horizon they'd just passed over.

"Clary," She ignored him.

"Clary, please." She stopped, but didn't turn to face him. At this point, she was angry enough to want to yell at him, but too embarrassed by her tears to let him see. She felt a warm hand on her elbow. It was rough against her skin, and she briefly wondered what the rest of skin felt like. Was it soft in places? Smooth? She imagined it was.

"Clary," he said again, and his voice was so soft, she couldn't help but turn t him. His expression was a mixture of emotion, but she could tell by his eyes that he was feeling guilty.

"I'm not an idiot," She told him gruffly. He opened his mouth to say something but she cut him off.

"I know I can't really say much about movies, or pop culture. I couldn't tell you about the Tea Party movement, or how many seats there are in parliament. I sure as hell couldn't solve a quadratic equation and I wouldn't even look at Calculus as a subject for senior year. But I'm not an Idiot. There _are_ things I can tell you. I can tell you when Picasso was born, I can tell you how Vincent Van Gough lost his ear or how many paintings he sold in his lifetime. I can tell you whether you should use pastel or charcoal and I can tell you how many stanzas there are in 'The Raven.' " He tried to speak again, but she wasn't done.

"And I'm tired of people making fun of me!" She was crying now. "I always put up with it in high school. I put up with Jessamine Lovelace laughing at me because I couldn't answer a question in biology, and I put up with Will Herondale calling me names. I put up with my mom giving me that disappointed look of hers every time a report card came in the mail. Hell, I even put up with Isabelle always treating me like some kind of idiot who couldn't dress herself or talk to boys. But I will not up with that anymore, especially not from you."

All these things burst out of her before she could stop them. Some of them she'd been holding in since grade school, some of them she hadn't even realised she'd been upset by.

Shaking her head, she closed her eyes and wiped away her tears. It wasn't really his fault, and he _had _only been mucking around. She was about to apologize for the outburst when she was surrounded by something warm and hard but soft at the same time.

"I'm a dickhead." Jace's voice was muffled in her hair. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. I didn't even think. God, I'm such an idiot."

"It's okay," She said into his chest. "I know. I overreacted. I'm sorry." He pushed her away from his chest and looked her straight in the eyes.

"No." His voice was stern. "You don't- You don't have to apologize to me. You don't have to apologize to anyone who treats you badly."

"I know. But I know you guys were just teasing." She smiled at him, trying to invoke some confidence into her voice.

Jace put his arm around her and squeezed her tight and they walked back to the car together. His arm was heavy, but warm and comforting around her shoulders, and she was glad of it.

"Clary," Jordan's voice was anxious when they reached the car. "I-" Clary cut him off.

"Don't. It's okay. I overreacted. Can we just forget it ever happened and move on?" Jordan nodded warily, and she was just about to duck into the car when she stopped and actually looked at what they'd stopped by. She gasped, and both boys turned to see what caught her attention. She stumbled down over the side of the road and down the decline until she was just at the edge of the lake. Jace and Jordan followed suit.

It was beautiful. Stunning. The sun was white in its morning light, and it sent bright, pure rays down onto the lake, bouncing off the completely still surface of the water. It seemed almost like glass, and she could imagine reaching out and stepping over it. Even more stunning than the water, was the thousand of the tinniest silver fish Clary had ever seen. The pale light bounced off them as the wriggled through the water, and the entire body seemed to glitter. Her hands itched for a 2B pencil and her sketch book.

"Wow."

"I know." Jace looked to her.

"Do you want to stay?" He asked her, reading her mind. She bit her lip.

"Will you guys be okay? You won't be bored or anything?"

"Nah," Jace said, "We'll find a way to entertain ourselves."

They sat there all day. From down the decline, you could barely hear the traffic, let alone see it, so it was as good as being in the middle of the wilderness.

Around noon, just as the sun peeked in the sky and Clary's hands had turned almost numb from gripping the pencil so tight, she looked back at Jace and Jordan behind her. They were drinking flat coke and eating left over potato chips, while Jordan strummed lightly on his guitar, and Jace sang along. His voice was not perfect; he was off tune at times and he had a small range. But it was rich and strong. They were in the middle of the second verse of 'Thunder' when he caught her eye, and he grinned at her.

It was at that moment when she realised, with a start, that she was happy. Actually happy. Like, from-the-tips-of-your-toes-to-the-top-of-your-head, warm-in-your-chest happy. The type of happy she hadn't really felt since she was too young to take notice of her mother's constant badgering, and before she could see all the ugly things in the world. They type of happy she only felt when she drew.

She turned back to her led and her paper, and let the sound of Jace's voice, full and lovely, to sing her into a state of oblivious ecstasy.

**TA DAAA!**

**What do you think? **

**BTW, I live in Australia, so therefore my knowledge of American Geography is incredibly limited, and whatever I put in this story (about geography) is probably WRONG. So don't take that aspect of the story too seriously. (I don't know if there's a lake like that next to a highway in Ohio.)**

**If you wanted to know the song Jace is singing at the end, it's 'Thunder' by Boys Like Girls. I would listen to the acoustic version. **

**Anyways, if you want more updates than R&R (Please?) **

**Hope to hear feedback from you guys, both negative and positive. **

**Keep it groovy, **

**Beth. **


	6. Chapter 6

**Hey guys. I know it's been a while, and I really have no excuse. I had two directions that this story could have gone in, and both of them where very different from another, so i wasn't sure which I wanted to do. But I've made my decision now, so the next chapter should be up shortly. **

**Anyway, enjoy. **

**DISCLAIMER: You know the drill. **

Sun Studios was not anything special to look at, if you didn't already know what a phenomenal place it actually was. A narrow, red brick building on the corner of a street in the heart of Memphis, a large, yellow plastic electric guitar hung on dusty metal bars outside the white framed door. On the side of the building the Sun Studios logo and name was painted in yellow and white.

Clary, Jace and Jordan sat in the idling car outside the old record studio, looking up at the building in awe. Because, of course, Sun Studios was not just any plain old recording studio. It was the birthplace of Rock N' Roll. Who knew what music today would be like if it hadn't been for this red brick building on the corner of a street in Memphis.

"Wow," Jace peered over the top of his sunglasses, blinking in the midday sun, "It's even better in real life." Clary looked at him.

"What?" He turned defensive, "I've only ever seen it in pictures and movies before, okay?" She smiled.

"No, it's just that I didn't realise you were that much of a music fanatic." Jace grinned.

"You don't have to be a music fanatic to understand the greatness behind this place, Clary." He took off his sunglasses and looked her in the eye. "I mean, this place practically _made_ Elvis." She looked out at the building again, at faded plastic guitar and pale green window shades.

"I guess." She turned to look at Jordan. He was still transfixed on the studio.

"This is it?" She asked him. He nodded slowly.

"Yeah,' His voice was soft, like he was in a dream. "It is." He shook his head then, as though clearing water from his ears. Then he leaned over to the other side of the car, and scooped up his duffel bag, flinging it over his shoulder. He got out of the car, stepping onto the cracked sidewalk. Bending over, Jordan peered back through the open car window at Clary and Jace, and he smiled.

"Thank you," He said, and she was struck by how genuine his voice sounded. "I mean it. I wouldn't have made it here without you." Clary grinned unevenly.

"Just promise us that once you become a famous music sensation, you won't forget us."

"Oh Clary," His laughed. "How could I ever forget you?"

"Goodbye, Jordan. Good luck." Jace smiled.

"Yeah, you too." He looked like he was about to leave, but turned back to them. He took a breath.

"I hope you guys find what you're looking for." Clary frowned, confused.

"What makes you think we're looking for anything?"

"Clary," He looked almost sad, "Everybody's looking for something."

He walked away from them then, guitar slung on his back, and his figure became smaller and smaller the further away he got, until he was only a tiny dot again, in the deep distance.

"I'm gonna miss that boy," Clary said softly, and she was surprised by the sincerity of Jace's reply.

"Me too."

XXX

They drove after that. The days melded into one another; actual dates became a distant memory, and the time ceased to matter. They lived by the position of the sun, and by the demands of their stomachs. They passed the time with music and pencils on paper and corny jokes. And they talked; oh how they talked. They explored each other with words, poking and prodding at each other's lives. They were intimate with their questions and found themselves without guard; they gave each other full access. They talked about lost dreams and lost loves, about their future and possibilities. They shared childhood stories and secrets and found that they fitted each other like a glove. And as they talked, something blossomed. Like a flower, it unfurled another petal with each conversation, and before they knew it, it had encompassed them until it filled their hearts and minds. Clary felt it, and part of her knew that Jace felt it too. But she was scared to bring attention to it, too scared to unsettle the balance they had created. So she remained silent, and she waited.

One night they lay together on the roof of the Ford in Nevada, Las Vegas a hazy glow on the horizon. The stars above them seemed like glitter on a child's art project; though perhaps less garish. Clary lifted his slim hands above his head and pointed out constellations to Jace; Orion's belt, the big dipper, etc.

"Clary?" He asked, sorry to interrupt but too curious to stay silent.

"Yeah?" She peeled her eyes from the sky to look sideways at him. He looked different to how he had when they officially met that night, in the club. His hair was longer, curling slightly at the ends and his skin was a darker shade of gold. The exposure from the sun had lifted the subtlest of freckles on his cheeks, so faded she couldn't see them in the soft glow of the distant city lights.

"Why did you come with me?" He turned onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow. He didn't have to clarify; she knew what he meant. She mimicked his actions and propped herself on her elbow, facing him.

"My entire life," She explained, "I've done things right. I've always tried _so hard _to be the perfect daughter, the perfect student, the perfect friend. And, I don't know, I just felt like for once in my life I needed to do something for me, something that would make _me _happy. I mean, is that selfish? I just felt like no matter how hard I tried I could never be exactly what everybody else wanted me to be, so why try? I mean, I know I can't always think about myself, life doesn't allow for that kind of self indulgence, but I just needed it. Am I making any sense?" She laughed and he grinned at her.

"Course. No, I mean, I get it. I do." She felt a rush of relief that he understood.

"So what about you? Why were you so eager to get out? I mean, you had everything." He looked at her, puzzled.

"You know what I mean," She told him, "You had friends, everybody loved you, you were like rich, and no, don't deny it; I've seen that credit card you flash every time we buy something. C'mon then, spit it out. I've told you my reason, you tell me yours." Jace smiled sheepish, and looked down at his fingers, laced together on the roof of the car.

"Uh, well, you're right. I guess I am rich- or, should I say, my _dad_ is. But that doesn't mean I had everything. Those guys weren't really my friends; the only thing we had in common was social status. And those people didn't _love_ me. They loved the idea of me. They weren't real friends, you know? Like, none of them could have been my two am."

"You're two am?"

"Yeah, my two IS. You know, the person you can call at two in the morning and know that they'll come pick you up or bail you out of jail or whatever."

"Or whatever," she repeated.

"Yeah. I mean, I know you have some issues with Simon and Izzy, but I know that if you called one of them up at some ungodly hour they would be there for you, no problem."

"Yeah, they probably would." She smiled, thinking of her two best friends with only the smallest twinge of guilt.

"And it's not just that. Me and my dad..." he hesitated, "He doesn't really care about me, you know? I don't mean that in that bratty, angsty way rich kids do when their dad won't buy them the latest iPhone or whatever. Like, he just doesn't care. I don't think he ever has. I mean, he loved my mom, and my mom loved me, so he does what he's supposed to do. But he's never been a real father." He laughed then, and pulled the infamous credit card out of his pocket. "He gave this to me to keep me out of his hair, and out of trouble. In fact, I doubt he's even noticed that I'm missing, he's away so much." Clary noticed the wetness in Jace's eyes, but didn't say anything about it. Instead she asked him;

"What happened to your mom?" He sniffed.

"She died when I was ten."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It wasn't your fault." They were silent then, and suddenly the weight of the night pressed down on her.

"My dad died." She told him, feeling like she should give him something of her when he'd given her so much of himself. He looked confused.

"I thought your dad owned the bookstore downtown? Garroway's Books?"

"Oh, that's my step-father, Luke. He married my mom when I was ten. My actual father died before I was even born."

"Do you miss him?" She shook her head.

"Can't miss someone you never knew."

"I guess."

She turned onto her back then, and looked up at the sky, a deep navy velvet littered with jewels. She felt slim, calloused fingers brush against her own, and she opened her fist entwining her fingers with Jace's.

"Are you sad?" His voice was soft as a whisper, almost carried away with the cool desert breeze.

"Yeah." She told him, her voice and eye's clear. "But everybody's a little sad, right?" His hand tightened on hers momentarily.

"Right."

XXX

They took their time, driving towards the coast, but less than a week later they pulled up in front a beach in southern California. It was about four in the morning – they had been going all night- and it was that point just before the sun rose in the morning where it was so silent, not even the birds had woken up yet. The late night partiers had retired to their beds, and the workers on the early shift where only just stirring in their beds. The sand stretched out, pale and wide in front of them, and the ocean was flat and still. The softest of breezes blew wispy strands of red hair off her forehead as she stepped out of the car, and onto the soft white sand. Jace followed.

Neither of them spoke; it would have felt wrong to break such a natural silence. They sat on the sand together in the cool morning air, breathing deeply. The sky directly above them was still a rich velvet blue, melting softly into a pale, cloudless dusk. The horizon was rimmed with a curious green tint that held the promise a new day, a new beginning. The only thing they could hear was the soft rustle of the beach grass in the morning wind.

"So what do we do now?" Clary whispered to Jace. His hands found hers again and when he looked at her she felt as light as air.

"Anything. Anything we want."

In a small town in New Hampshire, a woman dreams feverish dreams about her run-away daughter. Next to her, her husband lies awake and hopes. A teenage boy sits with his fiancé at a diner on the outskirts of the small town. He is angry. She knows better. All around the country people are waking up, making coffees, having showers and driving to work. Babies cry and children struggle to tie their shoelaces. The world falls through space in the same way it always has. On a beach in California, a teenage boy with an old car and nothing to lose leans down and kisses a redheaded girl with too many dreams spinning through her head. The world goes on around them.

**And there you have it. **

**Hope you enjoyed this chapter. This isn't the end of the story, just so you know. It's like the end of part two, I guess. The next chapter will be set a bit in the future. **

**So I hoped you liked. Leave a review, let me know what you think. **

**Love, Beth. **


	7. Chapter 7

**Hey guys it's me again! And I'm updating; how good am I? **

**Anyway, this is the start of part two, so it's set just over three years in the future. I must warn you, it gets a tiny bet dirty towards the end, so beware. (but not really dirty that much)**

**DISCLAIMER: You guys get it. **

Clary woke up to a dull thudding in the front of her skull, the way she always did when she had slept for too long. She peeled her eyes open and was met with an empty space on the mattress next to her. The sun was warm on her bare back, and when she rolled over in the sheets, warm hazy streaks of yellow light pooled over her. She stretched her arms over her head, arching her back until she heard the satisfying click of her stiff joints. She turned onto her side to face the empty space on the mattress next to her. Sitting up she groaned internally, thinking about how much she hated waking up alone these days.

Her hair was a nest of auburn and her joints creaked stiffly as when she stretched, the way they always did after long periods of unconsciousness, as She got up, scanning the clothing littered floor until she found her work uniform, hidden beneath a polka dot bikini and a pair of jeans. Clary cringed at the shapelessness of the black waitresses dress.

"Oh, yuck." She said to the dress, dismally.

30 minutes and a shower later, she emerged from the bedroom fully dressed and fully made up, slipping into her work flats.

"Good morning, Clarissa," Clay smiled up at her eccentric roommate, who seemed to be up at an unusually early hour, seeing as she usually didn't see him until anytime after noon.

'Morning, Magnus. You're up early." She noted as she pulled a bowl down from one of the kitchen cabinets. Magnus sighed dramatically, the diamantes on his favourite belt buckle flashing as he leant lazily against the kitchen bench, looking salient as always.

"I'm afraid, my dear Clary," He looked meaningfully at his perfectly manicured nails, "That I've been having some boy troubles, and it has been causing me to lose sleep." Clary couldn't help but giggle ever so slightly. Magnus was forever having troubles with some boy or girl he was momentarily interested in.

"Do not laugh at my pain Clarissa." He took a long sip of his coffee, "I know I have had my plenty of flings over the past couple of years you have known me, but I think you'll find this one is very different." Clary poured milk into her bowl of lucky charms and retrieved a spoon from the cutlery draw before hoisting herself onto the kitchen counter adjacent to Magnus.

"How so?" The tall boy waved his hand exasperatedly.

"To be honest, I don't want to go too far into it, but let's just say that this is one denim jacket that hasn't been out of the closet since the eighty's."

"Ah. But of denial here, is there?"

"Big time."

"That sucks, Magnus. I'll start a prayer circle for you, okay?"

"That's very sweet, darling."

For a moment they just sat there, and Clary watched Magnus brew in his sorrows until he sighed one last time and looked back at her.

"What time does your shift start?" Clary finished her cereal and dunked the bowl into the sink.

"Eight till twelve. Tiny one today."

"Wanna hit the beach later?" Clary grinned.

"What, so I can show off my rocking bod?" Magnus clucked, disapprovingly.

"Don't sell yourself short, Fray. You totally have one fit booty."

Clary just laughed, and grabbed her handbag from where it hung on the hatstand.

"Maybe at around two-ish?" She paused, thinking. "Actually, no I can't. I have some errands."

"Alright." He sighed, "I'll just be left alone to wallow in my misery then."

"I'll see you later, okay?"

"That's if I haven't died of frustration by then. You know, due to my one true love thinking he's a ladies' man."

"Goodbye Magnus." She slipped through the door of the loft and into the hallway.

XXX

Work went by reasonably quickly. The old Italian restaurant wasn't exactly five-star classy, and it didn't pay well and the customers never seemed to tip, but the people were nice and the hours were flexible, and she really did need the money. Art supplies didn't grow on trees, and you had to pay the bills somehow.

As soon as Gretel came to replace her, Clary was out again onto the hot streets of Long Beach, California. The day was hot, but the black of her dress was attracting heat, which made things even harder as she mounted her bike, which had been chained to a streetlamp outside the restaurant.

Clary rode until she reached the quiet, secluded neighbourhood of Carroll Park. She stopped outside the old house whose address matched the one scrawled haphazardly on the palm of her hand. She parked her bike in the driveway, leaning it carefully against the garden fence. She walked the garden path and subsequently the porch steps and knocked on the door.

There was a few moment of nothing, and Clary was just considering knocking again when she heard a set of footsteps approaching the door. The latch clicked and it swung open, revealing a thin, middle aged woman with greying brown hair and crow's feet in the corner of her eyes.

"You must be Clary," She said as she stepped aside in the doorway, gesturing her into the house. "I've heard so much about you, honestly felt like I already know you." Clary smiled as she was led into a sunny kitchen.

"It's lovely to meet you, Mrs Nolan. I've heard a lot about you too."

"Please, call me Jean. Can I get you something to drink? Ice tea? Coke? Coffee?"

"Ice tea would be great thanks."

"Gosh, you look exhausted. Did you ride all the way here on your bike?" Clary smiled and nodded, watching as Jean, who looked like she hadn't slept in about three weeks, bustled about, collecting water glasses and a pitcher of beautiful looking iced tea from the fridge.

"You're so good. It's important to get into good exercise habits when you're still young." Jean plucked a lemon from a bowl on the island and knife from the block next to it.

"They're all out the back, why don't you go join them and I'll be out in a minute?"

"Sure you don't need any help?"

"I'm fine, sweetie. Go on, I'll join you guys soon."

Clary made her way through the bright lounge room and through a set of open French doors onto the back porch. In front of her spread a pale wooden veranda and then steps and a ramp that led out onto a wide, green lawn. Along the back fence were beds of petunias in every shade of colour and in the middle of the lawn was a trampoline on which a little boy, about six or so, jumped happily. There were Frisbees and soccer balls and footballs scattered all over the lawn, and in the far corner, spread over a banana lounge, was a teenage girl in a pink bikini, her brown hair splaying out from underneath the large floppy sunhat that covered her face.

"Clary." She turned towards the familiar voice and grinned. Jace sat, golden eyes hidden behind a pair of fake ray bans, at a picnic table on the veranda next to her. Next to him sat a man, about fifty or so, in a wheelchair. His head was tilted to the side, and he looked up at Clary when Jace spoke.

"So this is Clary? You know, when Jace said you were pretty he never mentioned that you were a supermodel." Clary blushed at this as she moved over to Jace, who reached an arm out to her.

"It was implied, obviously." He kissed her, short and sweet on the lips before turning back to the plate of food in front of him. He stabbed the fork through a small piece of chicken and held it up the man's mouth.

"You must be Victor," Clary said to the man as she sat down.

Victor, Jace had told her, was a quadriplegic. He'd been in a really bad car accident about three years back, and had lost all movement below his shoulders. Jace was his carer. To be honest, Clary had been more than surprised when Jace had told her that he wanted to be trained as a carer; it just seemed so completely out of character for the car loving, football playing jock she'd known. True, Jace had turned out to be full of surprises, so this shouldn't really have shocked her, but it still did.

Anyway, Jean, Victor's wife, pretty much had to take care of him full time, so Jace would come five days a week to help and three of those days he would stay the night so Jean could get a full night's sleep. He was surprisingly good at it. He just seemed to have a way of talking with people; he wasn't bothered or uncomfortable with the intimacy that caring for a quadriplegic required. Clary found herself in awe of him very regularly.

Clary ended up staying for lunch with the Nolan's. Their son, James, was adorable and bubbly, and Clary fell in love with him almost automatically. They had a daughter too, Wendy, who dragged herself up to the patio for lunch, but spent the whole time with her earphones stuck into her ears. Apparently there was also another son, but he went to college in Pennsylvania, and was taking courses over the summer.

"So Clary, Jace tells me you're an artist." They had finished lunch and were finishing off what was left of the ice tea. James was back on the lawn, kicking a soccer ball into a set up net. Clary laughed.

"I'm pretty sure that you actually have to sell a painting to be considered a proper artist."

"Nonsense!" Victor exclaimed, "You just have to love what you're doing and do it constantly." Clary smiled as Jace held up a glass of ice tea with a straw stuck in it for the older man to take a sip.

"I'm sure you're excellent, Clary. You have to show me some of your work some time." Jean began stacking up the dishes.

"Who's your favourite?" A husky voice came from the end of the table. It was Wendy, who had been silent up until now, seemingly absorbed with her iPod.

"Van Gogh," Clary answered, a bit surprised at how the girls eyes lit up at the mention of the Dutch artist. "What's yours?"

"Vincent, same as you."

"Wendy loves to draw," Jean explained, "Wendy, you should show Clary some of your sketches." And just as that was mentioned the light dropped from her eyes as she looked down at her fingers. "Not tonight."

"Alright then. Now," Jean said, looking pointedly at Jace, "You, get out of here. You're exhausted and you've stayed for longer than you should have. I don't want to see your face again until Tuesday. Go home and get some proper rest."

Jace drove Clary home, her bike resting in the back of the same Ford he'd had when he was eighteen. When they walked through the door of the loft, Magnus was absent and the sun had turned a bright yellowy orange as it sank lower in the sky.

"They seem nice," Clary remarked of the Nolan's as she hung her bag on the hat stand and slipped out of her shoes.

"They are," Jace replied.

She was about to say something else when she felt strong arms around her middle and warm breath against the back of her ear.

"You know," Jace whispered, "This apartment is empty, apart from us." He paused. "And also Chairman Meow," he said of the small cat who was currently asleep on the coffee table.

Clary turned in the circle of his arms, and when she was facing him, she hoisted a leg up around to his hip lead a trail of kisses along his collar, something that always drove him crazy. Jace lay his hands on the creases on the back of her knees and ran them up her legs. He lifted her from her thighs and she wrapped her legs around his middle. He carried them through the doorway (complete with beaded curtains, thanks Magnus) and into their bedroom. He knelt down by their bed, a plain mattress on the floor, with her arms wrapped around his neck as she kissed him long and slow, and they fell forward together until he lay over her. She unhooked her arms and slid her hands underneath his shirt, pressing her thumbs into the soft flesh of his lower abdomen in a way that made him gasp and shudder. He zipped her dress down the front and pulled it off her shoulders until her entire torso was bare.

Leaning down, pupils so dilated they left only a thin ring of gold in his iris, he kissed her neck, sucking and nibbling softly as he traced the supple curve of her breast with his free hand. She breathed in a shakily and arched towards him, grinding her hips against his until he thought he might pass out. She grabbed the hem of his shirt in her fists and pulled it up over his head. He looked at her then, and she almost melted because she didn't think anybody had ever looked at her that way before. He kissed hard, and leant down onto her as she accepted him fully.

When it was over they lay together for hours. She rested her head in his chest as he slept, listening to his heartbeat. She loved looking at him sleep. He seemed so much younger, so innocent (ironic considering what they'd just done). He was the easiest to draw when he was like this; less alert, less on guard, less self conscious. She had a whole notebook dedicated to Jace sleeping hidden somewhere among the piles of paints and canvas and charcoal and paper that lived at the back of the room.

She was running the edges of her fingernails softly over his stomach when she felt his head tilt to the side and breathe in deeply.

"Hey." She said.

"Hey," he replied, voice muffled by her hair.

They sat there for a while Jace played with her hair, the only sound coming from the soft hum of the radio from the living room.

"Jace?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Anything, sweet."

"Why did you decide to become a carer? Like, what was the whole reason behind it?" For a few moments he was silent, then;

"I used to look after my mom, you know, when she was sick." Clary looked up at him. He was staring at the ceiling. A faint stubble had grown on his jaw and it made him look older than twenty one.

"But you were just a little boy," She said, "Didn't she have a carer; like you are to Victor?"

"Yeah, I mean, during the day. But she left at night, and my dad wasn't really around much when she was sick- he didn't take it very well." He shrugged, "Somebody had to make sure she got to bed all right, and my brother was pretty useless at that stuff. So that person had to be me."

"But that's not fair. You were just a child, a baby."

"I know," He looked down at her and shrugged again. "But these days it makes me happy. I'm actually making a firsthand difference to people's lives, and that's a good thing, you know?"

"Yeah, it really is." She smiled and leant up to kiss him on the lips, just as the doorbell rang. Jace looked up.

"Who do you think that is?"

"I dunno, but I'll get it."

"Coming!" She called out as she rolled off the bed. Quick as a flash she slipped into a light, racerback dress and hurried to the door.

"Sorry, I was-" She started as she opened the door but stopped when she saw who it was.

Because who it was was Simon.

**HAHAHA CLIFFHANGER OH YEAH. Did I scare anybody at the beginning, even just a tiny bit?**

**I wrote a way more racier version of that ending part but I decided not to publish it because this is a family fanfiction sort of and also I'm a bit embarrassed by it. Instead I saved it in my documents as OH GOD NO. **

**Anyhow, I hoped you enjoyed the story. Please review or follower or w/e.**

**I love you all fredos for everyone. **

**Until next time. **

**Beth.**


	8. AN (Sorry You Guys)

Okay so I should probably clear something up here.

This is my fault because I meant to make note of it when I uploaded it but my brain fuzzed out and I completely forgot.

_Yes, _I have uploaded this chapter before however I was rereading it the other night and noticed like 5000 typos and just things that made me go _ugh _so I changed it and uploaded it again but forgot to mention it and now you guys are all like "what" so I figured I'd just clear it up.

And yeah. So sorry about the confusion.

New chapter should be up soon.

Love you guys,

Beth


	9. Chapter 8

**Well hey, it's me again. **

**First off I want to say sorry. It has been like over a year since I last updated, and I bet most of you thought you would never see me again, didn't you? **

**It's been a hell of a year. I've done a lot. I graduated high school, learnt to drive a car, failed driving test, went to two school balls, was a first flute in Wind Orch, co-directed my house choir at school, dyed my hair brown, then red, then blonde, then pink, fought off several cold, stomach flus and emotional break downs, bought a car, almost ran said car into a sign, bought a new phone, had my first hang-over, went on my first date ever, and way more (not in that order).**

**Anyway, I'm sorry it's been so long, and I want to say a huge THANKYOU to everyone who's still reading; you deserve an award, particularly those of you who started reading back when I uploaded the first chapter. **

**I hope you like this chapter. I feel like the dialogue is slightly forced in parts, but I just had to publish something to get myself writing again. **

**Anyway, enjoy!**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of the characters, only the plot. **

For a moment Simon stood in the doorway, feeling flushed, slightly breathless. It probably should have occurred to him that she would look different; it had been three years after all. But for him, every time he'd pictured her in his mind he'd just imagined her as the same old Clary, with her pale skin, skinny legs and knobbly knees. But she _was _different, of course she was different. Her hair was longer, looser curls, and she carried more flesh on her bones than she had before. The only part of her that felt the same as before where her eyes, which where currently staring at him, wide in shock.

"Simon-" She choked out, but he barely heard her; he'd already turned, spun on his heel and fled for the end of the hallway, the stairs, the exit.

It was funny because the whole trip there he'd been fuming, the anticipation of seeing her again igniting that old spark of resentment that had been lying present but dormant in his chest for years. But once he'd got there, something had changed. Maybe it was how different she looked, or maybe it was that combination of the fresh, delicate bruise just above her collar bone and _him _standing behind her, with his lazy eyes and just-had-sex hair; he wasn't sure. Whatever it was, it had caused a dry throat and a dizziness and all he knew was that this was a mistake, and that he needed to leave. He made it maybe ten feet down the hallway before he heard her.

"Simon!" She called after him, "Please, wait!" He stopped, and swallowed before turning. She had rushed to keep up with him before stopping, an arm's length away. Her sun-dress had slipped from her shoulder, revealing light golden tan over a sea of freckles.

"Three years." His voice sounded small and embarrassingly hurt but he couldn't seem to help it.

"I know." Her voice was thick, choked with tears.

"You could have at least called." He told her and that's when she started to cry.

"I know." He felt his anger dwindle, unable to survive the sight of his best friend's tears. He wanted to comfort her, but he was frozen to the spot where he stood. His feet were rooted into the creaking floorboards that lined the hallway; he felt like he couldn't have moved them if he tried.

"I'm getting married." He told her. She sniffed.

"I know." He felt like they were running in circles.

"Can't you say anything else? Can't you say something other than 'I know'?" His voice sounded high pitched and desperate to his own ears, but his feet seemed to be freeing themselves as his frustration grew, and he took a jerky step backwards, away from her. She ran a hand through her curls, pushing them out of her face.

"What do you want me to say?" He wished she would get angry, yell at him, defend herself, something. But she didn't; she just stood there, guilt etched into every line of her expression. He didn't want her to feel guilty, that wasn't the point. He clenched his fists by his side as his face twisted into a frustrated scowl.

"Fuck, Clary, I don't know." He croaked, and sighed, suddenly very tired. "I don't know." A moment of silence. It was Clary who spoke next, soft and pleading.

"Can we not do this right now? I miss you." He sniffed, but he couldn't deny it; he missed her too, achingly so. Wasn't that the real reason he'd tracked her down in the first place?

"Yeah," He admitted and his voice was shaky, "I miss you to."

And before he knew what was happening there she was, tip toes and arms around him, squeezing tight. He laughed breathlessly, reciprocating the hug and wrapping his arms around her tiny frame. _God he'd missed her. _Clary was a part of him, missing for three years. And to have her back close to him again was a relief so strong it was almost overwhelming. He felt lightheaded, and maybe it was the diverse range of emotions he'd worked his way through in the past three minutes or maybe it was the drive, but he really needed to sit down.

Clary must have noticed this somehow, because she promptly pulled away and looked up at Simon with a tentative concern laced into her expression.

"Come on, you must be tired. Have you had dinner yet?"

Simon shook his head and before he knew it he was seated at a kitchen table in the middle of Clary's loft, sipping filtered coffee out of a chipped blue mug while Clary microwaved some left over spaghetti from a Tupperware container.

The loft was fairly small, and apparently divided into three separate rooms. The main living area was where Simon sat with Clary; a small kitchen (with not much more than a microwave oven, a coffee maker and a puttering refrigerator), an old dining table and chairw, a blue threadbare couch and armchair, coffee table and a TV. Jace was nowhere to be seen, supposedly disappeared into one of the two bedrooms that stemmed off either side of the living area.

"Why now?" Clary asked from the kitchen bench and Simon looked up from his coffee. "Why'd you come looking now?" Simon bit his lip.

"Izzy and I," He looked back down into his coffee intently, "We're getting married. Next week." Clary gawked.

"_Next week?_" She stopped, closed her gaping mouth, and blushed. Sliding into the seat across from him, she smiled apologetically. "Sorry, I don't mean to – I mean- I just thought you guys were, like, you know…" She hesitated and Simon interrupted.

"Going to wait?" He filled in. Clary nodded. "Yeah we were. I mean, we only just got out of college, we're barely twenty two."

"So why so soon?" Clary asked, before leaning in very close and whispering, "Is Izzy pregnant?" At that Simon choked on his coffee, spluttering embarrassingly.

"What?" He coughed out a guffaw as though she'd just accused him of joining a nudist colony, "No, of course not! Nothing like that." Clary sighed.

"Then what is it? Why rush into something so serious when you're so young?" Simon snorted.

"Yeah, says the girl who took off in the middle of the night for no reason."

"Not exactly the same thing, Si. Plus, I did have reasons, _you _just don't know what they are." He rolled his eyes as she pressed on. "C'mon. Tell me." Simon sighed, sliding down in his chair before pulling himself up straight, leaning forward on his elbows.

"It's like-" He paused, as though searching for the right words. "Like some kind of early-life crisis? Like it's hard to explain." He seemed to gain vigor as he spoke, confidence in his words. He continued.

"Clary, did you know that I just spent three years of my life earning a degree that is about as useful as my high school diploma? I slog my ass off for three years and wind up working for minimum wage at the Middleton Walmart and so I wake up one day and it just hits me like, what's the point? What exactly am I waiting for? Three more years isn't going to make me love Izzy any more than I do now, I don't think that's possible. It's just time spent waiting around for money and security I'm not going to get. Izzy thinks the same, so why deny ourselves of something we want." He shrugged then. "I don't know, maybe it's dumb, but it just felt like the right move, you know?" Clary nodded slowly.

"Yeah," Her voice was quiet, thoughtful, "I get that. I really do." The corner of his mouth turned up slightly.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. How did your mom take the news?"

"Not well. She thinks I'm being irresponsible."

"Are you?" He shrugged again.

"Maybe. Kinda tired of being responsible though. Besides, Mom doesn't really get it, none of them do. Their generation grew up in one of the most prosperous economies in America's history. They spent their twenties with a job right out of college and a student loan they paid off within five years of graduation." He laughed and she nodded.

"I know. My mom was twenty five when she and my dad bought their first house." Simon smirked.

"Yeah, and I'll still be paying off my student loans when I'm _thirty _five." They both laughed, if not bitterly. Clary may not have student debts but she and Jace had been living with no help since Jace's card had been cut off; she'd been dealing with the workforce for years, and knew all too well what it was like to struggle. So yeah, she got it.

"So," Clary stretched her arms above her head, clicking stiff joints, "An early-life crisis. That's what's inspired you guys to jump in so early." Simon nodded.

"Head first and hands tied." He agreed. "Clary, I want you to be there. You're my best friend." She hesitated.

"You know I want to be there too. I just don't know if I can go back to Middleton, not yet."

"Don't have to. We're in LA now." Clary's eyebrow's shot up at that.

"Really? That's like an hour away from here." He nodded.

"I know. We moved after graduation. Izzy wants to get into fashion, and figured she'd have better luck in LA. I was sick of Walmart so I followed. Didn't know you were so close until I managed to get your address out of Luke."

"Ah," Clary smiled and leaned forward, resting her chin in her hands and thinking of her step-father, with whom she'd been in regular contact since only a few months after her move to California, "So _that's _how you tracked me down."

"He cracked very easily," Simon told her, and she snorted.

"He never was good at keeping secrets he didn't want to keep. He thought I should tell you right from the beginning."

"So why didn't you?" Clary frowned and shook her head.

"Simon," She started, "You have to understand- there is so much about the past few years that I cannot explain. I did some really impulsive stuff, and I don't know why exactly or what for. I think…" She trailed off.

"It's okay," Simon reassured, "You don't have to explain. I don't think I'm that angry anymore."

"Were you very angry before?" He shrugged.

"I think I was more betrayed than anything." He told her, "Like, it was always us against the world and then suddenly you're off, riding into the sunset with one of the people we were supposed to hate?" He rolled his eyes and waved off her frown.

"And yeah, I know, that's such a _high school _way of looking at things but it's just how I felt back then. I'm sorry." She laughed, and he held his breath for a moment because _God he'd missed her so much. _He was about to tell her so, when a cough sounded from behind. Clary looked up and he turned to see a rumpled Jace Wayland standing in the doorway behind him. Clary grinned, slipping out of her chair and skipping across the kitchen. He grinned as she wrapped her arms around his waist.

"So," He started in a voice too low for Simon to hear, "Magnus just texted me."

"And?"

"_And, _he wants to meet up at some party he's at with that new guy he's dating. Allan? Alex? Something like that?" Clary bit her lip, glancing at Simon, who sat staring very deliberately at the table top.

"Jace, I don't know if I can go tonight, cause', well, you know…" He smiled.

"I do know. I was thinking of going for few hours, so you guys could have some proper privacy and I wouldn't have to be trapped in the bedroom all night." She smiled sheepishly.

"That's perfect. Thank you." She tilted her head upwards and he leaned down and they met halfway, lips brushing chastely against each other for a small moment.

"Well," Jace said, voice louder this time, "I'll be off then." She unwound her arms from around his waist and found her way back to the microwave where Simon's forgotten dinner lay. Jace pulled his hoodie from where it hung over the back of the couch, pulling it on over his tee shirt.

"I can't say when I'll be back. Maybe in a couple of hours. Maybe in a few days. Maybe never." Clary rolled your eyes and opened the microwave, peering in at the now luke-warm spaghetti.

"Well," She said offhandedly, "If you don't come back until next week and I'm not here, it means I'm in LA. I'm going to a wedding." Simon's head shot up, a hopeful grin on his face.

"So you'll come?" She grinned back.

"Of course. Wouldn't miss my best friend's wedding now, would I?"

Suddenly Simon was up out of his chair and across the kitchen, and his long arms were wrapped around her, pulling her tight against him. He laughed and reciprocated the hug.

"Aw," Jace cooed as he watched them, "You guys are so cute." Clary and Simon parted and she frowned at Jace.

"You know," She told him, "I can never tell when you're being serious or not." Jace, for his part, looked offended.

"Hey, I am totally serious." He grinned then. "This is so exciting, I can't wait. I love weddings."

"Wait," she started, "hold up. Who says _you're _invited?" Jace leaned on the kitchen table in front of her and Simon, eyebrows raised.

"Well I think that's up to Simon to decide, don't you?" They both looked to the dark haired boy at the same time, and Simon blushed at the attention.

"Clary you get a plus one, so you can bring whoever you like." Jace perked up at this.

"Aw Clary, please take me. I love weddings." She snorted.

"So I've heard." Jace pouted at her, face pleading.

"Damn," she sighed. "Look at those puppy dog eyes, it's not fair. You know I can't resist those."

"So you'll take me?" She rolled her eyes and Simon laughed from where he leaned against the kitchen bench.

"Yeah I'll take you, you big dork. Now go away!" She lurched forward, interrupting Jace mid-victory dance, shoving him towards the door. He laughed but went willingly, calling out a lengthy farewell that continued even after she had shut the apartment door in his face.

She turned from the door to see Simon staring at her, expression unreadable.

"What?" She didn't mean to sound defensive, but there was something inscrutable about the way he was looking at her that put her on edge. Simon shook his head.

"No, nothing. Sorry." Clary let it go, returning to the kitchen where she stared at the cold spaghetti. Wrinkling her nose at the leftovers, she turned to Simon.

"Maybe we should just get take-out."

XXX

Four hours, two pizzas and one Die Hard movie later (the first one, duh), Clary found herself sitting cross legged on the mattress in her and Jace's bedroom, starring ineffectually at her sketchpad. Simon who now occupied the couch in the living room, had fallen asleep about an hour ago. Clary, who hadn't felt like going to sleep without Jace, decided to take advantage of the free time in order to concentrate on her recently neglected artwork.

When they'd come out to California, the idea was that it would be the perfect opportunity for her to concentrate on her art. She'd had ideas about a series of masterpieces that would get her noticed by galleries and collectors. She'd wanted to make a living out of her talent, but she was so naïve back then, she hadn't realised what living independently would mean for her and Jace.

Jace's card was cut off not long after they arrived in California. Neither Jace nor Clary was surprised by the development; she had figured that it couldn't be that easy, that eventually Jace's father would notice and/or grow bored of his son's absence and cancel the card. When he did, all they had was a couple hundred dollars in cash, and half a tank of gas. The next six months were the hardest. Working for minimum wage and sleeping in the back of their car through cold winter nights, she'd be lying if she said she had never thought about going back east to her mother's house. But she was nothing if not stubborn, and Jace said there was nothing left for him in Middleton, and by then they were a package deal; where one went, the other followed. So they'd stayed together in California, and waited out the storm.

It wasn't until they decided to try their luck in Long Beach that things took a turn for the better. Clary started at the restaurant and Jace found work with a delivery company. Six months after that Jace started taking night classes at community college. Fast forward two years and here they are, and it's all been such a blur that sometimes Clary looks back and she can't believe it's been three years since she left home.

Unfortunately in those past years her art had kind of taken the backseat to more important things like paying bills and rent and gas. She _had_ managed to produce a series of paintings that impressed Jace but in reality were subpar at best. Art shows and collectors and galleries seemed so far out of the question at this point, but Simon's appearance had sparked some kind of inspiration, motivating her to dig out her sketchbook for the first time in three weeks.

Clary looked dejected down at the blank sketchbook paper, before turning to pout at her failed attempts at genius, the series of half-finished and abandoned canvases leaning against the wall next to the tall window that looked out onto the empty street below the apartment. She was just about the give up on everything and call it a night when she heard the soft click of Jace's keys in the front door.

Jumping off the bed, she caught him just as he was coming through the doorway into the kitchen. Hushing him and warning him of Simon's presence on the couch, she took his hand and led him into the bedroom, where he promptly collapsed onto their bed. Closing the door behind them, she turned to face her boyfriend.

"Hey." He grinned from where he lay on his back. She grinned back, tucking her leg beneath her as she settled down on the bed beside him.

"Hey yourself. How was the party?" He snorted as he rolled onto his side to face her.

"Lame. Literally all they had was vodka." He made a face, "I hate vodka." She chuckled and reached forward, running her fingers through his hair. He closed his eyes at that, and she wouldn't have been surprised if he'd started purring.

"But you did get drunk though." She said in reference to his flushed cheeks and sleepy eyes. "I can tell." He opened one eye, grinning mischievously.

"Of course I did. I'm not one to turn down free alcohol."

"Even if it's vodka?" He nodded seriously in response.

"Even if it's vodka."

"Did you meet whatsisface?" Jace frowned.

"Whatsisface? Oh, you mean Magnus' love interest that won't admit he's not straight?"

"That's the one." Jace shook his head.

"Nah. Left early apparently." She nodded at that, and they were both silent.

"Okay," She announced after a few moments, pulling herself onto her feet, "I'm changing for bed, and so are you." She began pulling her nightclothes out of the closet while Jace pouted at her.

"Ugh. I don't want to. Too much effort." She rolled her eyes.

"Fine. Take off your shoes at least, I'm not having you leave the bed all sandy." At that she left the room, creeping over to the bathroom to shower.

When she was done she returned to the bedroom to find a sleeping Jace, settled properly on the bed in only his boxer shorts. She discarded her sundress on the floor next to the dresser and lay down next to him, pausing briefly to turn off the lamp next to the mattress.

As she settled down into bed, she felt Jace turn on the mattress next to her and lazily throw an arm over her waist. Lacing her fingers with his, she stared out the open window, taking in the soft glow of the neon light from the deli across the street, listening to the hum of the city. It was early morning now, closing in on two am, but she didn't have to work tomorrow and there was nowhere else she needed to be.

And there, in that moment, everything was perfect. Her best friend was back in her life, she would go to his wedding. She was happy. She was in love.

But she should have known then, should have guessed;

What goes up, must come down.

**Thanks for reading! I hope updating more regularly now that I have more time on my hands. **

**Please let me know what you think in a review or subscribe/favourite if you like this fic. **

**Thanks again lovelies! I'll try to update soon!**

**Love, **

**Beth**


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